“God, being dumb, refuses no one, least of all religious women, they force themselves upon Him so persistently. Yes, I shall be glad to be relieved of your company for a while. And so please confine your wanderings to the upper storey where you live. And leave the garden to those who can appreciate its beauty sufficiently to be in by five o’clock.” Rosalie looked at him. Pain and fear was on her face. “Live upstairs!” “Yes; live upstairs. And eat red lozenges when your appetite is bad. You can’t die, you know.” She turned toward the door. “Good-night!” he said, drawing an open book toward him on the table, and sitting down. “Good-night! I see now my fault and punishment in staying out of doors beyond the time.” For only answer he laughed. As he did so the door closed. CHAPTER XIV BROKEN SPIRITS So full of pain and heaviness was Rosalie that all her childish fear had vanished. She passed up the slippery staircase into the corridor, from which her own small sitting-room was. Never to go downstairs again for three long weary years! Never to be out of the grey, silent, ghostly shadows of those upper rooms—never to have human companionship or friendliness! A part of the meaning floated through her mind, and cast its heavy shroud on all things. It was still early in the evening, too early for Mariana to return from the work which held her. She sat down in the high-backed chair before the fire, and listlessly looked into it. The flames burnt low. There was none of the brightness of the other day in them—no whispered message of hope. Rosalie’s spirit ached more from the cruel heartlessness of the Master’s conduct than even from the thought of coming imprisonment. For this was in the present—that the future. None had ever spoken so to her before—sharply, no doubt but never with this harsh and cruel coldness. Every feeling in her simple nature seemed outraged and lacerated. Once only she moved uneasily in her chair, as one undergoes some great pain, and cried, or rather moaned: “It’s unfair—unfair! I haven’t done anything that’s wrong, and it was silly and stupid of me to ever think of coming back again.” At last the door opened, and Mariana entered with supper. Rosalie did not turn round till they were alone again, and scarcely even then, till Mariana came and stood beside her, and looking down, said: “Rosalie, why did you not come in at five o’clock?” “Don’t ask me. I was foolish. There is no other reason.” “Is Mr. Barringcourt’s company more agreeable than mine?” “I thought it was, and have paid the penalty. Don’t reproach me. I can’t stand it to-night. Perhaps to-morrow.” “I don’t wish to reproach you. Once I thought the same, for an hour or two, like you. But I got over it as you have done. You will not care for his company now?” “No.” “That is well. I suppose you know you are not to go downstairs again?” “Yes. What am I to do, Mariana, to pass the time away?”