“Better be killed than get away alive without permission. And you, being the offender, must bear her punishment beside your own.” A wintry smile crept to her lips. “Oh! I am strong enough for any punishment. I have a frame of iron buried in what seems like flesh. If I have sinned, then name the punishment. But sin at times, if sin this be, brings near an echo of happier things beyond this life to conjure.” “You are too hard-worked, you say.” “I said I slept the sounder for it.” “Sound sleeping is a thing for swine. You shall not work so hard, for you must sleep less heavily. You are intent upon a wedding-gown, I hear. Leave it unfinished.” “But I have worked at it three years; the dullest work is finished. This is the part I love, that makes some compensation for that other thing I worship.” “And for the double punishment, seeing your working hours have been reduced and cancelled, there will be no further need for that night out—excruciating torment for the all unhappy listeners.” “Rosalie loved my playing.” Her dark eyes shone out from a face pale as death. “No. She was bribing you to stop by flattery. Did she not counsel you to give it up?” “Ah! that is impossible. I ask nothing but two little hours a week. If that goes, I might as well be dead.” “You might then, for you have done with them.” “It was the stipulation when I came here.” “You have broken the stipulation by your carelessness.” “What am I to do, then?” “Nothing. Learn to appreciate the luxury of idleness.” “You have not weighed the fairness of such a punishment.” “You have angered me.” “Give me but one hour a week, then. Give me but one.” “No, not one! Get away out of my sight, lest I be tempted to kick you out.” “Where must I go? I have no place amongst the others now.” “There is the workroom. You had best guard what you have made from moths. That is sufficient occupation surely for one who hitherto was too hard-worked.” “It is a return to the life I led before I came here.” “The information does not interest me. You live your life according to your own making. Go; I have no more to say to you.” Mariana’s eyes glittered. “I would I could appeal to some power without against this cruel sentence.” “Oh! there is no power without. The world is too busy with its own affairs. You had best sink into silence gracefully. You have got past the age of screaming and past the age of tears. You have let go the only prisoner I set my mind on keeping, and need expect no mercy for it. Imbecile! Go!” The words were accompanied by an action so indicative of savage irritation that Mariana, without further reply, turned to the door and left the room. Daylight, unaccompanied by much warmth, had taken the place of twilight. The lights were out, and morning had begun. Along the corridor into the central hall, with face all deathly white, she passed. She met Everard there. He had waited for her.