“Alice, you are the most provoking young woman I ever had to deal with in my life. If I had twenty secrets I would not tell you one of them.” On the next morning Alice heard it all from her father. “I knew there was something by mamma’s manner,” she said. “I told her not to say anything.” “So I suppose. But what does it matter to me, papa, whether Major Rossiter does or does not marry Miss Wanless? If he has given her his word, I am sure I hope that he will keep it.” “I don’t suppose he ever did.” “Even then it doesn’t matter. Papa, do not trouble yourself about him.” “But you?” “I have gone through the fire, and have come out without being much scorched. Dear papa, I do so wish that you should understand it all. It is so nice to have some one to whom everything can be told. I did like him.” “And he?” “I have nothing to say about that;--not a word. Girls, I suppose, are often foolish, and take things for more than they are intended to mean. I have no accusation to make against him. But I did,--I did allow myself to be weak. Then came this about Miss Wanless, and I was unhappy. I woke from a dream, and the waking was painful. But I have got over it. I do not think that you will ever know from your girl’s manner that anything has been the matter with her.” “My brave girl!” “But don’t let mamma talk to me as though he could come back because the other girl has not suited him. He is welcome to the other girl,--welcome to do without her,--welcome to do with himself as it may best please him; but he shall not trouble me again.” There was a stern strength in her voice as she said this, which forced her father to look at her almost with amazement. “Do not think that I am fierce, papa.” “Fierce, my darling!” “But that I am in earnest. Of course, if he comes to Beetham we shall see him. But let him be like anybody else. Don’t let it be supposed that because he flitted here once, and was made welcome, like a bird that comes in at the window, and then flitted away again, that he can be received in at the window just as before, should he fly this way any more. That’s all, papa.” Then, as before, she went off by herself,--to give herself renewed strength by her solitary thinkings. She had so healed the flesh round that wound that there was no longer danger of mortification. She must now take care that there should be no further wound. The people around her would be sure to tell her of this breach between her late lover and the Wanless young lady. The Tweeds and the Simkinses, and old Lady Deepbell would be full of it. She must take care so to answer them at the first word that they should not dare to talk to her of Major Rossiter. She had cured herself so that she no longer staggered under the effects of the blow. Having done that, she would not allow herself to be subject to the little stings of the little creatures around her. She had had enough of love,--of a man’s love, and would make herself happy now with Bobby and the other bairns.