"You have not heard all my plan out, Laurel," said Beatrix. "I do not forget my debt to you. I would sooner help you than betray you. I was going on to say that if you would be brave enough to confess to St. Leon how you have wronged him, I too would confess to him. I would tell him how much I was to blame. I would beg him to forgive you because you were so innocent and ignorant, and because you loved him so. Then--if it came to the worst--if in his pride and his wrath he should put you away from him--you might come to us--to Cyril and me." The hapless young creature did not answer a word. She stared at Beatrix mutely with wide, wild eyes like a hunted fawn's. "Well, what do you say, Laurel?" inquired Beatrix. "Will you do as I wish you?" "It is too terrible a risk. I do not dare," moaned Laurel, hiding her face in her hands. Then for a time there was silence. Beatrix was hurt and chagrined that her plan had been discarded. She thought Laurel was a headstrong, willful child, rushing blindly upon her own destruction. But she could not help pitying the girl, her fear and misery were so great. She desisted from advising her. It seemed too much like torturing some lovely, helpless creature. The hunted look in the dark eyes pained her. "After all, is she any worse than I am?" said Beatrix to herself. "I deceived my parents. I risked everything for love's sake, and this poor child has done no more than that. I must not be angry with her. I must remember always that it was I who led her into temptation." She went to her gently, she took the white hands from the pale, tear-stained face, and held them kindly in both of hers. "Laurel, do not look so miserable and heart-broken," she said, gently. "You need not be afraid of me." Laurel looked at her with a flash of hope in her humid eyes. "Do you mean that you will not betray me?" she panted. "I will not betray you," Beatrix answered. "I pity you too much, my poor child, and I know that the end will come soon enough. Far be it from me to hasten the evil hour." She was glad she had spoken so kindly when she saw the lovely flush of joy that came into the sensitive face. Laurel thanked and blessed her passionately, then the dark eyes turned to Clarice. "And will you have mercy on me, too?" she said. "I have always been afraid of you, Clarice. I have always remembered what you said. The words have haunted me." "I meant what I said," replied the maid. "If I had seen you going to the altar with him, I should have betrayed you, and saved him. It would have been my duty." "And now?" Laurel questioned faintly. "It has gone too far," answered Clarice. "You are Mr. Le Roy's wedded wife. What God hath joined together, no man must put asunder." She thanked them with such trembling passion and joy that they could have wept.