"She is just an oddity," said Annie; "and it is my impression that your aunt is tired of oddities. I can make her a little more tired, and I will." "Oh Annie! Poor Priscie! and she does enjoy the mountain air so, and is such a splendid climber. You might as well let her have her holiday out. You are so frightfully clever, Annie; you can always achieve your purpose. But I think, if I were you, I would let poor old Priscie alone." "I would if there were no danger," said Annie. "Danger--in her direction? What _do_ you mean?" "There is very grave danger," said Annie--"very grave indeed. I am more afraid about Priscie than about anything else in the whole of this most unfortunate affair." "Annie, what _do_ you mean?" "She is troubled with a conscience, bless you! and that conscience is talking to her every day and every night. Why, my dear Mabel, you can see the gnawings of self-reproach in her eyes and in her horrid melancholy manner. She is always in a dream, too, and starting up and having to shake herself when one talks to her suddenly. I know well what it means; she is on the verge of a confession." "What?" said Mabel. "Yes, that is the danger we have to apprehend; at least it is one of the dangers. One day, for the sake of relieving her own miserable conscience, she will go to your aunt and tell her everything. Then where shall we be?" "But she could not be so frightfully mean; I never, never would believe it of her." "Mark my words," said Annie--"people with consciences, who believe they have committed a crime or a sin, never think of anybody but themselves. The thought of relieving their own miserable natures is the only thought that occurs to them. Now, we must get hold of that conscience of Priscie's, and if it is going to be a stumbling-block we must cart her back to England." "We must indeed," said Mabel. "For all that I say I don't believe that she could be so mean." "Oh, nonsense," said Annie; "I know better." Mabel crouched on the floor by Annie's side, her hand lying on Annie's lap. "You are wonderful," she said after a pause, "quite wonderful. I can't imagine how you think of all these things, and of course you are never wrong. Still--poor Priscie! you won't make things very hard for her, Annie, will you?" "I know exactly what I mean to do," said Annie. "First of all I have to get you out of your present scrape, and then I shall go boldly to Priscie and find out her pent-up thoughts, and if they are in the direction I am fearing, I shall soon find means to protect ourselves from her and her conscience. But perhaps that is enough about her. On the present occasion we have got to think of you and Mrs Priestley." "Oh, indeed, yes! Oh, I am terrified!"