“But why can you go, and not I?” “I’m sure I don’t know. See, I have brought you some sweets,” and Mariana held out a very pretty box containing a delicious assortment of chocolates. Rosalie took it, somehow more touched than she liked to show by this simple little act of graciousness. “Come and sit with me after tea, and let us eat them together.” “I am afraid I cannot. I am always busy in the evening.” “What are you doing?” “Making a wedding-dress.” “Are you going to marry, then?” “Oh, no; I’m not making it for myself. I don’t know that it is a wedding-dress either. However, I am making it very beautifully, and so I am ambitious for it.” “Who is going to wear it?” Here Mariana’s brow puckered, and a puzzled, tired look came on to her face. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I expect if I finish it, and no one applies for it or wants it, it will shrivel up again. For there is no wardrobe but what is overrun with moths; and the moths here eat away all colours except red and black.” “Then how can you preserve it till it’s done?” “By steeping the silk I sew it with in tears. But when the last stitch is in the effect has gone. The moths cannot perceive the bitterness afterwards. They eat it all away.” Rosalie stared at her, as well she might. “Won’t you let me see it?” she asked at length; but Mariana shook her head. “It would be no pleasure to you.” “Indeed it would. Let me see it, Mariana, just for one minute. There can be possibly no harm in that.” “The room I sew in is very damp for such as you.” “But I’m stronger than you. I’m accustomed to hard work.” The other looked at her and smiled, with more sadness than mirth in her expression. “What strange ideas you get about things, Rosalie. The work I do would kill you in a month.” “But you will let me come with you, will you not?” “Yes, if you wish it very much. After tea at six o’clock I will come for you.” CHAPTER XII AN ACT OF DISOBEDIENCE At six o’clock Mariana knocked at the little sitting-room door, and Rosalie opened it, quite ready to accompany her, armed with the box of sweets. “You must not bring those,” said the elder woman. “But I want you to have some.” “I’m not like you. I’m not fond of sweets, and have no intention of making my fingers sticky.” Then Rosalie put them down, and followed her in silence and obedience. They went downstairs together, and took the door opening into the central hall to the right, the one through which Rosalie had not yet passed. But at the threshold Rosalie stood still. It seemed to her as if a great spider’s web was barring their further progress. A breath of darkness and dampness was wafted out to meet them, and inclination bade her turn back there and then. Mariana evidently noticed nothing of this hesitation; she passed through the door, and held it open for Rosalie to follow. The gigantic cobweb was nothing but delusion evidently, and melted into nothingness.