He had never in his life been so amazed. She had flown at him, and shaken him! It was unbelievable. It was pathetic. She was such a little thing; so fierce, and so helpless. “All right!” he said, mildly. “I’m listening. What’s it all about?” His tone, his faint smile, did not please her. “Oh, you think it’s nothing!” she said. “You think I’m just a silly girl, making an awful fuss about some childish trouble. _Don’t_ you? Well, you’re wrong. Listen to me!” She stopped, and drew back a little, looking him straight in the face with those strange black eyes of hers. “I’ve done a terrible thing,” she said, in a low, steady voice. “A wicked, terrible thing. If I get what I deserve, I’m ruined and lost.” She turned away from him, and walked over to the window. Ross turned, too, and followed her. She was gazing before her at the gray sky; the curve of her cheek, her half parted lips, her wide brow, were altogether innocent and lovely, but the look on her pale face was not so. It was somber, bitter, and tragic. “The sun is coming up,” she said, almost inaudibly. “_Will_ you help me?” “Yes,” Ross answered. VII Ross stood by the window, watching the sun come up—the first sunrise he had witnessed in his native land. From the east the light welled up and spread, slow and inexorable, across the sky, like the Master’s glance traveling over the chill world; and in his soul Ross dreaded that light. It would mean discovery. That very quiet figure in the housekeeper’s room would have his revenge. “I’m in it now,” Ross muttered. “Up to the neck.” And why? Was it pity for that girl? Was it a stirring of sentiment because she was his kinswoman, his cousin? He did not think so. He might have pitied her, and still gone away. He might have recognized their kinship simply by keeping silent about what he had seen. No; it was something more than that; something he could not quite understand. It was the claim of life upon a strong spirit. You are hardy and valiant, life said; your shoulders are fitted to bear burdens, and bear them you shall. Here before you is a cruel burden, and you cannot turn aside. All the strong ones shall be chosen to suffer for the weak. You are chosen, and you shall suffer. Well, he did. “I’ve done a wicked, terrible thing. If I get what I deserve, I’m ruined and lost.” That was what she had said to him, and he interpreted it readily enough. It was hideous to think of, but not difficult to believe. She was, he thought, capable of any imaginable thing, good or evil. She would not weigh, or calculate, or even understand; she would only _want._ She would want to possess something, or she would want to destroy something which irked her. “And after all,” he thought, “it’s not a hard thing to do. Even a little, weak thing like her can—” His mind balked at the fatal word, but, with a frown, he deliberately uttered it to himself.