"Evidently you do not trust me yourself, Alice, and naturally your opinion is more important to me than anyone's else. Yet when one has lived with the same people a long time one does expect a certain amount of faith and understanding. I am sorry, for I cannot tell you what you wish to know at present. I may be able to in a very few days, if you will be good enough to wait and not speak to Aunt Patricia. It is hardly worth while to make a difficulty between us! Personally I am glad Tante _is_ away; at least, I am glad she is away today, since it would have been more difficult to refuse my confidence to her than to any one else. But I shall regret it if I am able to make my confession before her return. She at least would have tried to believe I have not intended to do anything wrong. Now please leave me alone, Alice. You were right, I am going out on an important errand. You need not worry over my going alone this time, because old Jean has promised to go with me as soon as he is free and I shall wait for him." Then, although Alice lingered for several moments longer, when Sally would neither speak to her, nor look at her, she slowly left the room. Afterwards when Alice had disappeared Sally's pretence of courage vanished and she sat with her hands clasped tightly together while the tears ran down her face. All very well to pretend to Alice that she was convinced she had been doing no wrong. But was this true? In the end would she not have to pay dearly in the continuing condemnation and distrust of her friends? When her confession was finally made, would they even then understand and forgive her? CHAPTER XV THE DISCOVERY A little more than an hour later Sally and Jean started forth upon their mysterious pilgrimage. To have been spared the ordeal of this morning's visit to the French chateau Sally would have given a great deal. On other occasions she had been nervous and fearful, but never to the extent to which the recent conversation with her sister had reduced her. More than once within the hour of waiting before she and Jean could slip away, Sally concluded to abandon her plan and never go near the chateau again, regardless of results. Then she remembered that she had given her word and that upon this visit many things were to be explained and arranged. Having endured so much of struggle, strain and suspicion, one must not fail in the end. And in spite of Sally's apparent indolence and softness, failure had no part in her mental make-up. Yet in being compelled to spend an hour of watching before daring to make her escape there was a sense of humiliation, almost of degradation. Nevertheless, what else could she do except wait until Alice was again absorbed in her teaching and until there was no one about the farm house or in the yard who would pay any especial attention to her actions? Sally's final misfortune was in encountering Yvonne as she passed through the hall downstairs.