AMY. ‘I was not afraid. I am a soldier’s daughter; and Ginevra gave me this.’ She produces a tiny dagger. This is altogether too much for Alice. ALICE. ‘My darling!’ She does have the babe in her arms at last, and now Amy clings to her. This is very sweet to Alice; but she knows that if she tells Amy the truth at once its first effect will be to make the dear one feel ridiculous. How can Alice hurt her Amy so, Amy who has such pride in having saved her? ‘You do love me a little, Amy, don’t you?’ AMY. ‘Yes, yes.’ ALICE. ‘You don’t think I have been really bad, dear?’ AMY. ‘Oh, no, only foolish.’ ALICE. ‘Thank you, Amy.’ AMY, nestling still closer, ‘What are we to do now, dear dear mother?’ Alice has a happy idea; but that, as the novelists say, deserves a chapter to itself. III We are back in the room of the diary. The diary itself is not visible; it is tucked away in the drawer, taking a nap while it may, for it has much to chronicle before cockcrow. Cosmo also is asleep, on an ingenious arrangement of chairs. Ginevra is sitting bolt upright, a book on her knee, but she is not reading it. She is seeing visions in which Amy plays a desperate part. The hour is late; every one ought to be in bed. Cosmo is perhaps dreaming that he is back at Osborne, for he calls out, as if in answer to a summons, that he is up and nearly dressed. He then raises his head and surveys Ginevra. COSMO. ‘Hullo, you’ve been asleep.’ GINEVRA. ‘How like a man.’ COSMO. ‘I say, I thought you were the one who had stretched herself out, and that I was sitting here very quiet, so as not to waken you.’ GINEVRA. ‘Let us leave it at that.’ COSMO. ‘Huffy, aren’t you! Have they not come back yet?’ GINEVRA. ‘Not they. And half-past eleven has struck. I oughtn’t to stay any longer; as it is, I don’t know what my landlady will say.’ She means that she does know. COSMO. ‘I’ll see you to your place whenever you like. My uniform will make it all right for you.’ GINEVRA. ‘You child. But I simply can’t go till I know what has happened. Where, oh where, can they be?’ COSMO. ‘That’s all right. Father told you he had a message from mother saying that they had gone to the theatre.’ GINEVRA. ‘But why?’ COSMO. ‘Yes, it seemed to bother him, too.’ GINEVRA. ‘The theatre. That is what she _said_.’ Here Cosmo takes up a commanding position on the hearthrug; it could not be bettered unless with a cigar in the mouth. COSMO. ‘Look here, Miss Dunbar, it may be that I have a little crow to pick with mother when she comes back, but I cannot allow anyone else to say a word against her. _Comprenez?_’ Ginevra’s reply is lost to the world because at this moment Amy’s sparkling eyes show round the door. How softly she must have crossed the little hall! GINEVRA. ‘Amy, at last!’ AMY. ‘Sh!’ She speaks to some one unseen, ‘There are only Ginevra and Cosmo here.’