She could not go to bed while this was going on, so she sat listening, till she should hear the noise of feet about the house. Silently she loosened the lock of her own door, so that the sound might more certainly come to her, and she sat thinking what she might best do. It had not been quite eleven when she came upstairs, and at twelve she did not hear anything. And yet she was almost sure that they must be still together in that small room downstairs, talking of her and of her conduct. It was past one before she heard the door of the room open. She heard it so plainly, that she wondered at herself for having supposed for a moment that they could have gone without her noticing them. Then she heard her cousin’s heavy step coming upstairs. In passing to his room he would not go actually by her door, but would be very near it. She looked through the chink, having carefully put away her own candle, and could see his face as he came upon the top stair. It wore a look of trouble and of pain, but not, as she thought, of anger. Her aunt, she knew, would go to her room by the back stairs, and would go through the kitchen and over the whole of the lower house, before she would come out on the landing to which Margaret’s room opened. Then, seeing her cousin, the idea occurred to her that she would have it all over on that very night. If he had heard that which changed his purpose, why should she be left in suspense? He should tell her at once, and at once she would prepare herself for her future life.

So she opened the door a little way, and called to him.

“John,” she said, “is that you?”

She spoke almost in a whisper, but, nevertheless, he heard her very clearly, and at once turned towards her room.

“Come in, John,” she said, opening the door wider. “I wish to speak to you. I have been waiting till you should come up.”

She had taken off her dress, and had put on in place of it a white dressing-gown; but of this she had not thought till he was already within the room. “I hope you won’t mind finding me like this, but I did so want to speak to you to-night.”

He, as he looked at her, felt that he had no objection to make to her appearance. If that had been his only trouble concerning her he would have been well satisfied. When he was within the room, she closed the lock of the door very softly, and then began to question him.

“Tell me,” she said, “what my aunt has been saying to you about that man that came here to-day.”

He did not answer her at once, but stood leaning against the bed.

“I know she has been telling you,” continued Margaret. “I know she would not let you go to bed without accusing me. Tell me, John, what she has told you.”