“Why, now?”

“I am going to marry him.”

“Then he ought to know.”

“Then he ought not to know, for you have drawn me into your web of deceit also.  He has talked to me about you and the book.  I have not betrayed you.  You cannot betray me.”

“It will kill me.  I did not know it would be like this.  I never blamed myself for anything before.”

“It will not kill you, and if it does, you must bear it.  You must not do your husband and children such an awful harm.”

“Wilbur is nominated for Senator.  He would have to give it up.  He would go away from Fairbridge.  He is very proud,” said Margaret in a breathless voice, “but I must tell.”

“You cannot tell.”

“The children talk of it all the time.  They look at me so.  They wonder because they think I have written that book.  They tell all the other children.  Annie, I must confess to somebody.  I did not know it would be like this.”

“You cannot confess to anybody except God,” said Annie.

“I cannot tell my husband.  I cannot tell poor Wilbur, but I thought Mr. von Rosen would tell him.”

“You can not tell Mr. von Rosen.  You have done an awful wrong, and now you can not escape the fact that you have done it.  You cannot get away from it.”

“You are so hard.”

“No, I am not hard,” said Annie.  “I did not betray you there before them all, and neither did Alice.”

“Did Alice Mendon know?” asked Margaret in an awful voice.

“Yes, I had told Alice.  She was so hurt for me that I think she might have told.”

“Then she may tell now.  I will go to her.”

“She will not tell now.  And I am not hard.  It is you who are hard upon yourself and that nobody, least of all I, can help.  You will have to know this dreadful thing of yourself all your life and you can never stop blaming yourself.  There is no way out of it.  You can not ruin your husband.  You can not ruin your children’s future and you cannot, after the wrong you have done me, put me in the wrong, as you would do if you told.  By telling the truth, you would put me to the lie, when I kept silence for your sake and the sakes of your husband and children.”

“I did not know it would be like this,” said Margaret in her desperate voice.  “I had done nothing worth doing all my life and the hunger to do something had tormented me.  It seemed easy, I did not know how I could blame myself.  I have always thought so well of myself; I did not know.  Annie, for God’s sake, let me tell.  You can’t know how keenly I suffer, Annie.  Let me tell Mr. von Rosen.  People always tell ministers.  Even if he does not tell Wilbur, but perhaps he can tell him and soften it, it would be a relief.  People always tell ministers, Annie.”