"I know it is; and I was given the rules, and I read them all carefully. But, sir, in a sudden moment of temptation, before I came to Haddo Court, I did something which was wrong, and I am determined not to mend my ways with regard to that matter. Nevertheless, I became a Speciality, knowing that by so doing I should break the first rule of the club." Mr. Fairfax was too courteous ever to interrupt any one who came to him to talk over a difficulty. He was silent now, his hands clasped tightly together, his deep-set eyes fixed on Betty's vivid face. "I was a Speciality for about a fortnight," she continued--"perhaps a little longer. But at the last meeting I made up my mind that I could not go on, so I told the girls what I had done. It is unnecessary to trouble you with those particulars, sir. After I had told them they asked me to leave the room, and I went. They had a special meeting of the club last night to consult over my case, and I was invited to be present. I was then told that, notwithstanding the fact that I had broken Rule No. I., I might continue to be a member of the club if I would give up something which I possess and to which I believe I have a full right, and if I would relate my story in detail to Mrs. Haddo. I absolutely refused to do either of these things. I was then _expelled_ from the club, sir--that is the only word to use; and the fact was notified on the blackboard in the great hall to-day." "Well," said Mr. Fairfax when Betty paused, "I understand that you repent, and you do not repent, and that you are no longer a Speciality." "That is the case, sir." "Can you not take me further into your confidence?" "There is no use," said Betty, shaking her head. "I am not surprised, Miss Vivian, that you are unhappy." "I am accustomed to that," said Betty. "May I ask what you have come to see me about?" "I wanted to know this: ought I, or ought I not, being unrepentant of my sin, to come to the chapel with the other girls, to kneel with them, to pray with them, and to listen to your words?" "I must leave that to yourself. If your conscience says, 'Come,' it is not for me to turn you out. But it is a very dangerous thing to trifle with conscience. Of course you know that. I can see, too, that you are peculiarly sensitive. Forgive me, but I have often noticed your face, and with extreme interest. You have good abilities, and a great future before you in the upward direction--that is, if you choose. Although you won't take me into your confidence, I am well aware that the present is a turning-point in your career. You must at least know that I, as a clergyman, would not repeat to any one a word of what you say to me. Can you not trust me?" "No, no; it is too painful!" said Betty. "I see that, in your heart of hearts, you think that I--I ought not--I ought _not_ to come to chapel. I am indeed outcast!" "No, child, you are not. Kneel down now, and let me pray with you."