"Before I can tell you, ma'am," cried the miserable Matilda, "I've got to make a confession. I've done--something awful! I've disobeyed you, ma'am! I've disobeyed and deceived you!" "What, Matilda," said Mrs. De Peyster severely, "after the way I've trusted you for twenty years!" "Yes, ma'am. But, I couldn't help it, ma'am! There's feelings one can't--" "But what have you done?" "I've--I've fallen in love, ma'am. For over a year I've been the same as engaged to William." "William!" cried Mrs. De Peyster, sinking back from her erect, reproving posture, and recalling an unforgettable episode. "Yes, ma'am,--to William. I'm sorry I disobeyed you, ma'am,--very sorry,--but I can't think about that now. For now," sobbed Matilda, "for now it's all off--and my heart is broke!" "All off? Why?" breathed Mrs. De Peyster. "That's what I can't understand, ma'am," wailed Matilda. "It's all a mystery to me. I've hardly seen William, and haven't spoken to him, since we came back, and he's acted awfully queer to me. I--I couldn't stand it any longer, and this evening I went out to the stable to see him. He was as stiff, and as polite, and as mad as--oh, William was never like that to me before, ma'am! I asked him what was the matter. 'All right, if you want to break off, I'm willing!' he said in, oh, such a hard voice. 'But, William,' I said, beginning to cry, 'but, William, what have I ever done to you?' 'You know what you've done!' he said." "Oh!" breathed Mrs. De Peyster. "I begged him to explain, but he just turned his back on me and walked away! And now, ma'am," wept Matilda, "I know he'll never explain, he's such a proud, obstinate, stiff-necked man! And I love him so, Mrs. De Peyster,--I love him so! Oh, my heart is broke!" Mrs. De Peyster gazed at her sobbing serving-woman in chilled dismay. She was for a moment impelled to explain to Matilda; but she quickly realized it would never, never do for her housekeeper to know that her coachman had made love to her, and had--had even kissed her. Every drop of De Peyster blood revolted against such a degradation. "I hope it will come out all right, Matilda," she said in a shaking voice. "Oh, it never can!" Matilda had already started for the door. She paused, hesitant, with the knob in her hand. "But you, ma'am," she faltered, "can you ever forgive me for the way I deceived you?" Mrs. De Peyster tried to look severe, yet relenting. "I'll try to overlook it, Matilda." "Thank you, ma'am," snuffled Matilda; and very humbly she went out. CHAPTER XX MATILDA BREAKS IT GENTLY At two o'clock of the fifth night Matilda stole into Mrs. De Peyster with a face that would have been an apt cover for the Book of Lamentations. She opened her pages. That day she had had a telegram that her sister Angelica--the really and truly Angelica, who really and truly lived near Syracuse--that Angelica was seriously ill. She was sorry, but she felt that she must go.