"Anna, hear me. His very nature, as I believe, is deceit. I fear he has little truth, little honour within him. Is Herbert professing to--to love you?" "I will not answer thee aught. I will not hear thee speak against Herbert Dare." "Anna," he continued in a lower tone, "you ought to be _afraid_ of Herbert Dare. He is not a good man." How wilful she was! "It is of no use thy talking," she reiterated, putting her fingers to her ears. "Herbert Dare _is_ good. I will not hear thee speak against him." "Then, Anna, as you meet it in this way, I must inform your father or Patience of what I have seen. If you will not keep yourself out of harm's way, they must do it for you." It terrified her to the last degree. Anna could have died rather than suffer her escapade to reach the ears of home. "How can thee talk of harm, William? What harm is likely to come to me? I did no more harm talking to Herbert Dare here, than I did, talking to him in Margaret Ashley's drawing-room." "My dear child, you do not understand things," he answered. "The very fact of your stealing from your home to walk about in this manner, however innocent it may be in itself, would do you incalculable harm in the eyes of the world. And I am quite sure that in no shape or form can Herbert Dare bring you good, or contribute to your good. Tell me one thing, Anna: Have you learnt to care much for him?" "I don't care for him at all," responded Anna. "No! Then why walk about with him?" "Because it's fun to cheat Patience." "Oh, Anna, this is very wrong, very foolish. Do you mean what you say--that you do not care for him?" "Of course I mean it," she answered. "I think he is very kind and pleasant, and he gave me a pretty locket. But that's all. William, thee wilt not tell upon me?" she continued, clinging to his arm, her tone changing to one of entreaty, as the terror, which she had been endeavouring to conceal with light words, returned upon her. "William! thee art kind and obliging--thee wilt not tell upon me! I will promise thee never to meet Herbert Dare again, if thee wilt not." "It would be for your own sake, Anna, that I should speak. How do I know that you would keep your word?" "I give thee my promise that I will! I will not meet Herbert Dare in this way again. I tell thee I do not care to meet him. Canst thee not believe me?" He did believe her, implicitly. Her eyes were streaming; her pretty hands clung about him. He did like Anna very much, and he would not draw vexation upon her, if it could be avoided with expediency. "I will rely upon you then, Anna. Believe me, you could not choose a worse friend in all Helstonleigh, than Herbert Dare. I have your word?" "Yes. And I have thine." He placed her arm within his own, and led her to the back door of her house. Patience was standing at it. "I have brought you the little truant," he said.