"It was her idea; she persuaded me into it," said Eleanor, the words slipping out of her mouth unawares. Then fearing that they might sound as though she wished to lay all the blame upon Margaret, she added impulsively, "But it was I who kept her to it so long. She wanted to give up the idea weeks ago, and confess everything, after she had only tried it for two or three days, but I would not let her go back from her word. And so though she has not been nearly so happy with young people as she thought somehow she must be, she has bravely stayed on there for my sake." Was it merely her imagination or did the severity of Mr. Anstruther's face relax somewhat as he heard that his granddaughter had not been as happy as she had hoped to be? His tone, however, when he spoke again had lost none of its former anger. "Your shameful audacity in impersonating my granddaughter and thrusting yourself, uninvited, into a house in which you have no right, deserves to be severely punished. I am not at all sure that such an offence is not punishable by law. How would you like to find yourself in prison? Mrs. Murray could prosecute you if she liked, and if she takes my advice she will." "And would you advise Mrs. Danvers to prosecute Margaret?" Mrs. Murray asked. "Eh--er--that is a different matter altogether," Mr. Anstruther answered, thoroughly taken aback by the unexpected remark. "Yes, but she, too, impersonated somebody else and thrust herself into a house to which she was not invited," said Mrs. Murray, "so we could hardly put one in prison and leave the other out, could we?" "Of course, Charlotte, if you are disposed to look upon the matter leniently, nothing more remains for me to say," Mr. Anstruther said in a displeased tone. "I gather, then, that you are not even angry with Miss Carson for her treatment of you. Certainly I have not yet heard you utter one word of blame to her, and when you consider how callously she has deceived you all these weeks no condemnation could be too strong for her." "I don't believe you are callous, my dear," said Mrs. Murray, looking gently into Eleanor's downcast face. "Oh, I am ashamed, so dreadfully ashamed!" Eleanor said, "when I think of all your kindness to me, and of how little right I had to any of it." "And so you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Mr. Anstruther. "But, however, as I said before, your share in the matter has not so much to do with me as my granddaughter's has. I am going now to see her, and you must come with me. I do not intend to lose sight of you until I have found her. How do I know that you are telling me the truth, and that she is at this particular house you mention?" Though Eleanor's eyes flashed at this remark, she recognised the justice of it and received it in silence. After all, why should Mr. Anstruther believe anything she said? "Yes, go, my dear," said Mrs. Murray, and Eleanor rose obediently.