And thus the awful round went on, every variation in argument or recollection bringing her to the same terrible conclusion, until Penelope almost persuaded herself that she was as guilty in the sight of others as in her own. Every one must know that she had those two lost lives on her conscience. They were sorry for her, but how could they help blaming her? and she withdrew herself from their pitying eyes. Lady Haigh humoured her at first, when she insisted on taking her rides at a time when no one else was about; but when Penelope refused to go out at all, and sat all day in a sheltered corner of the house-top, looking northward to the mountains, she became seriously alarmed. “Miss Ross not coming again?” asked Sir Dugald when the horses were brought round one evening, and he had helped his wife to mount. “No, I can’t get her to come. The very thought seems to frighten her.” “Must be frightfully bad for her to mope indoors like this,” was Sir Dugald’s prosaic comment. “Can’t you get her to exert herself a little?” “Really, Dugald, one would think I was Mrs Chick. Why don’t you tell me to get her to make an effort? She and I are so different, you see. If I was in dreadful trouble I should work as hard as I could--at anything, and entreat my friends, if they loved me, to find me something to do. But Pen has left off even the things she usually does, and simply sits and cries all day. I can’t very well suggest to her that it’s rather selfish, can I?--though I know it must make the house dreadfully dull for you.” “Oh, don’t mind me,” said Sir Dugald kindly. “I have my consolations. You are not a pale image of despair, at any rate.” “And the way she refuses to see people! Of course, no one would dream of expecting her even to appear at a dinner-party, but to rush away if poor little Mr Harris comes in, or any of them! Dugald”--her voice was lowered--“do you remember that poor Mrs Wyndham at Bab-us-Sahel, whose husband died of cholera on their honeymoon? She went mad, you know.” “My dear Elma, pray don’t suggest such horrors. Why not get Tarleton to come up and see Miss Ross?” “She won’t see him; that’s just it. But I have asked him to seize the first opportunity he can of dropping in and taking her by surprise. Then we shall know better what to do. Dugald!--I have an idea. Are you ready to make a sacrifice?” “When I know what it is, I’ll tell you.” “Oh, but it would be better for you not to know, you see.” “Thanks. I would rather not find myself pledged to throw up the service, or get leave home, if it’s all the same to you.” “It’s nothing of that sort--merely a way of spending the next two or three months. No, it’s not expensive--not like going down to the coast or to the Hills. But it will be very quiet and dull, and no chance of fighting. Oh, don’t guess. I want to be able to tell the Chief that you know nothing about it, so that if he is angry he mayn’t scold you. You would sacrifice yourself to help Penelope, wouldn’t you?”