"I am so sorry this has happened," said I. "Oh! that I had never written that foolish, foolish poetry. It has done so much mischief." "You are not to blame, Gabriella. He had no business to laugh at it; it was beautiful--all the boys say so. I have no doubt you will be a great poetess one of these days. He ought to have been proud of it, instead of making fun of you. It was so mean." "But you must go back to school, Richard. You are the best scholar. The master is proud of you, and will not give you up. I would not have it said that _I_ was the cause of your leaving, for twice your weight in solid gold." "Would you not despise me if I asked pardon, when I have done no wrong; to appear ashamed of what I glory in; to act the part of a coward, after publicly proclaiming _him_ to be one?" "It is hard," said I, "but--" We were walking homeward all the while we were talking, and at every step my spirits sank lower and lower. How different every thing seemed now, from what it did an hour ago. True, I had been treated with harshness, but I had no right to rebel as I had done. Had I kissed the rod, it would have lost its sting,--had I borne the smart with patience and gentleness, my companions would have sympathized with and pitied me; it would not have been known beyond the walls of the academy. But now, it would be blazoned through the whole town. The expulsion of so distinguished a scholar as Richard Clyde would be the nine days' gossip, the village wonder. And I should be pointed out as the presumptuous child, whose disappointed vanity, irascibility, and passion had created rebellion and strife in a hitherto peaceful seminary. I, the recipient of the master's favors, an ingrate and a wretch! My mother would know this--my gentle, pale-faced mother. Our little cottage was now visible, with its low walls of grayish white, and vine-encircled windows. "Richard," said I, walking as slowly as possible, though it was growing darker every moment, "I feel very unhappy. I will go and see the master in the morning and ask him to punish me for both. I will humble myself for your sake, for you have been my champion, and I never will forget it as long as I live. I was wrong to rush out of school as I did,--wrong to tear the paper from his hands,--and I am willing to tell him so now. It shall all be right yet, Richard,--indeed it shall." "You shall not humble yourself for me, Gabriella; I like a girl of spirit."