'Yes, be as angry as you like, I am angry too. And I tell you plainly that I am not going to allow my friend's life to be ruined because of the vagaries of a silly child. For you _are_ a silly child. You have got hold of some hare-brained fancy, and you are magnifying it into a mountain. You've got to tell me all about it, because I'm sure it stands in the way of my friend's happiness.' 'But you don't understand. I've been--oh, I'm ashamed of myself!' Some men perhaps would, on listening to this outburst, have imagined some guilty secret on her part. But knowing her as I did, it was impossible for me to do so. 'You are going to tell me about it,' I said. 'What is it?' 'But you'll not tell him; promise me that.' 'You must trust me,' I replied, 'and your trust must be complete. What power had Springfield over you? What did he say to you in that letter?' She was silent for a few seconds, then she said, 'You remember what I said about him when I first saw him?' 'Yes, you said he made you think of snakes. You told me you disliked him.' 'That's why I'm so ashamed. I knew he was a bad man, and yet he fascinated me. I was afraid of him, and yet he almost made me promise to marry him.' 'Go on,' I said when she hesitated, 'tell me the rest.' 'When--when--your friend came here for the first time, he--he----' 'Fell in love with you. Yes, it is no use mincing words. The moment he saw you, he gave his life to you. He told me so. He told you so.' 'I knew it before he told me.' 'How did you know?' Her tell-tale blush, her quivering lips, told their own story, and I could not help laughing aloud. 'Don't be cruel!' she cried. 'I am not cruel, I am only very happy. I am happy because my friend is going to be happy.' 'But you don't know all.' 'I know that love overcomes all difficulties, and I know that you love each other.' 'Yes, but listen. He--that is, that man--told me that although you did not know who your friend was, he knew. He said that he had been guilty of deeds in India, which if made known would mean life-long disgrace. That he, that is Colonel Springfield, had only to speak and--and oh, I can't tell you! I'm too ashamed!' 'I don't need telling,' I laughed. 'I know. He bound you to secrecy before telling you anything. He found out that you loved Jack, and he used your love as a lever. Like the mean scoundrel he was, he tried to make you promise to marry him, by threatening to expose Jack if you wouldn't. And you, because you were a silly girl, were afraid of him. You were the victim of an Adelphi melodrama plot.' 'Oh, I am ashamed,' she cried; 'but--he showed me proofs, or what seemed to be proofs of his guilt. He said his loss of memory was real, but that he, Colonel Springfield, knew who he was, and--oh, I am mad when I think of it!' 'And that's all!' I laughed, 'Why, little girl, when Jack knows, he'll rejoice in what you've told me.'