"Well?" said Amethyst composedly, and sitting down on the side of the bed. She was too much of a modern school-girl to be easily impressed by heroics. "My lady made a great deal of him," began Una abruptly, "because he lent her money. After he'd told _her_ all about Mrs Fowler's ill-temper he used to catch _me_ in the passage and kiss me, and say he wished _I_ was his little wife. He took me out long days, and people said I was so little it didn't matter. And I used to put little notes in his great-coat pocket, and he'd stick his in little corners for me. And when he sat up smoking, I'd slip out when I'd been sent to bed, and run down and have such good times. He told _me_ a great deal more of his sorrows than he ever told my lady! And he'd plan how we'd be married when I was seventeen, and go in a yacht to a lovely island in the south. I was happy then; I didn't care about being married. It was just enough to love him, love him, love him! And _now_, he's been cooling off ever since we came here, and I've just been dying for him. And it's over, it's over! I won't live! I won't exist without him! I'd like to kill him. Last time he was here, he laughed and made jokes. It wasn't a joke once. He was just a fool about me then. He has sucked out my life like a vampire!" Amethyst clenched her fingers together. "I wish _I_ could punish him!" she said. "He is a wicked man--a villain." "Oh no, no, no!" screamed Una. "He can't help it. He's an angel, and I'd die for him this minute!" and she flung herself down on her bed, sobbing pitifully. It came slowly over Amethyst how dreadful a story Una had been telling her, how unfortunate a fate had fallen on the poor child. Una might be naughty; but Amethyst saw dimly that no amount of "naughtiness" could bear any relation to the great injury that had been done to her by the thoughtless mother, who had never taken care of her, and by the selfish man who, for his own pleasure, had excited her childish passion. An instinct of pity greater than she could understand came over her; she could not speak a word of blame, but knelt down, and laid her face close to Una's, herself crying bitterly. Una nestled up to her, and sobbed more quietly, and at length Amethyst looked up. "Now," she said, "however bad it is, we have got to leave off crying. You must go to bed, Una, and I shall see about some supper for you; _I'll_ take care of you, now I know, and he shall never have anything more to do with you." A look, which Amethyst did not follow, came into Una's eyes; but she gave a long sigh, as of relief to her feelings, submitted to Amethyst's care, and finally settled herself down to sleep, not perhaps more miserable than usual. Amethyst went away from her, and stood by the passage window in the soft evening light, looking over the grave old garden, the peaceful spot which she had rejoiced in calling "home."