"Then you have a brother. His name is Loftus. He is like you, only he is not so fearless. He is in the army. He is rather extravagant, and your mother is afraid of him. Ah, yes, I know all about you and yours; and I know so much in especial about that proud lady, your mother, that if there were daylight, and I had pencil and paper, I could draw a portrait of her for you. There, have I not answered your first question? Now you want to know why I don't go away. If you had no money in your purse, and if you had walked between twenty and thirty miles to effect an object of the greatest possible importance to yourself, would you give it up at the bidding of a young girl? Would you now?" "You are very queer," said Catherine; "I fail to understand you. I don't know how you have got your extraordinary knowledge about us. You talk like a lady, but ladies don't starve with hunger, nor walk until they are travel-sore and spent. Ladies don't hide at midnight in shrubberies, in private grounds that don't belong to them. Then you say you have no money, and yet you gave Tester a shilling." "I gave him my last shilling. Here is my empty purse. Look at it." "Well, you are very, very queer. You have not even told me your name." "Josephine. I am called Josephine." "But you have another name. I am called Catherine, but I am also Bertram. What are you besides Josephine?" "Ah, that's trenching into the darkness where you wouldn't like to find yourself. That's light for me, but dark ruin for you. Don't ask me what my other name is." "Listen," said Catherine, suddenly, "you want to see my mother?" "Yes, I certainly want to see her." "Listen again. I am absolutely determined that you shall not see her." "But I have a message for her." "You shall not see her. My mother is not well. I stand between my mother and trouble. I know you are going to bring her trouble; and you shall not see her." "How can you prevent me?" "In this way. My mother is away from home. I will take care that she does not return until you have left this place. I am determined." "Is that true?" asked the girl. "Is she really away from home?" "Am I likely to tell you a lie? My mother is from home." The strange girl had been sitting on the grass. Now she rose, pushed back her thick hair, and fixed her eyes on Catherine. Catherine again noticed the singular brightness, the half-wild light in her eyes. Suddenly it was quenched by great tears. They splashed down on her cheeks, and made clean channels where the dust had lain. "I am deadly tired," she said, with a half moan. "Listen, Josephine," said Catherine. "You shall not spend your night here. You shall not stay to see my mother. I will take you down to the lodge and wake up Tester, and his wife shall get a bed ready for you, and you shall sleep there, and in the morning you are to go away. You can have breakfast before you start, but afterwards you are to go away. Do you promise me? Do you agree to this?"