To her too it looked very difficult to manage now. The revelation made to Arthur seemed somehow to extend to the whole household. She felt that everyone would be watching and pointing, even though Arthur himself went away. She had grown fearful of being found out--how quickly Arthur had found her out!--and dreaded her husband's surly questions. More scenes might come--more scenes not to be endured! A sudden resolve formed itself in her mind, born of her fear of more detection, of more scenes, of more falling into disgrace. "I expect Barber will have gone to bed--it's past eleven," she said. "But you can give him your orders in the morning. And--and I shan't see you. Be happy, dear Cousin Arthur, and, oh, splendidly successful! I'm sure you will! And now go to bed and sleep, poor tired boy!" "Oh, I can't sleep--not yet. This is good-bye?" His voice choked on the word a little. He turned his chair round, and she gave her hands into his. "Yes, this must be good-bye--for the present at all events. Perhaps some day, when all this is an old story, if you wish it----" "Are you going away with him, or----?" "Oh, going away! I must do that. You do see that, don't you? And Oliver wouldn't have anything else. Try to think kindly and--and pleasantly of me. Remember our good times, dear Arthur, not this--this awful evening!" "I've been such a fool--and now such a blackguard! Because now if I could, I'd----" "Hush, hush! Don't say things like that. They're not really true, and they make you feel worse. We're just dear old friends parting for a while, because we must." "Perhaps I shall never see you again, Bernadette--and you've been pretty nearly everything in my life since we've known one another." "Dear Arthur, you must let me go now. I can't bear any more of it. Oh, I am so desperately sorry, Arthur!" A tear rolled down her cheek. "Never mind, Bernadette. It'll be all right about me. And--well, I can't talk about you, but you needn't be afraid of my thinking anything--anything unkind. Good-bye." She drew her hands away, and he relinquished his hold on them without resistance. There was no more to be said--no more to be done. She stood where she was for a moment; he turned his chair round to the table again, spread out his arms, and laid his face on his hands. Just the same attitude in which she had found him! But she knew that his distress was deeper. Despair and forlornness succeeded to anger and fear; and, on the top of them, the poor boy accused himself of disloyalty to his house, to his cousin, to herself. He saw himself a blackguard as well as a fool. She could not help speaking to him once again. "God bless you, Cousin Arthur," she said very softly. But he did not move; he gave no sign of hearing her. She turned and went very quietly out of the room, leaving her poor pet in sad plight, her poor toy broken, behind her.