Ellen composedly removed her wraps and overshoes, and followed her sister into the warm, fire-lighted room.  She stood with her hand on the table and waited.  She was looking very handsome herself, in her own grim, black-browed style.  The new black velvet dress, with its train and V-neck, which she had made purposely for the party, became her stately, massive figure.  She wore coiled around her neck the rich heavy necklace of amber beads which was a family heirloom.  Her walk in the frosty air had stung her cheeks into a glowing scarlet.  But her steel-blue eyes were as icy and unyielding as the sky of the winter night.  She stood waiting in a silence which Rosemary could break only by a convulsive effort.

“Ellen, Mr. Meredith was here this evening.”

“Yes?”

“And—­and—­he asked me to marry him.”

“So I expected.  Of course, you refused him?”

“No.”

“Rosemary.”  Ellen clenched her hands and took an involuntary step forward.  “Do you mean to tell me that you accepted him?”

“No—­no.”

Ellen recovered her self-command.

“What did you do then?”

“I—­I asked him to give me a few days to think it over.”

“I hardly see why that was necessary,” said Ellen, coldly contemptuous, “when there is only the one answer you can make him.”

Rosemary held out her hands beseechingly.

“Ellen,” she said desperately, “I love John Meredith—­I want to be his wife.  Will you set me free from that promise?”

“No,” said Ellen, merciless, because she was sick from fear.

“Ellen—­Ellen—­”

“Listen,” interrupted Ellen.  “I did not ask you for that promise.  You offered it.”

“I know—­I know.  But I did not think then that I could ever care for anyone again.”

“You offered it,” went on Ellen unmovably.  “You promised it over our mother’s Bible.  It was more than a promise—­it was an oath.  Now you want to break it.”

“I only asked you to set me free from it, Ellen.”

“I will not do it.  A promise is a promise in my eyes.  I will not do it.  Break your promise—­be forsworn if you will—­but it shall not be with any assent of mine.”

“You are very hard on me, Ellen.”

“Hard on you!  And what of me?  Have you ever given a thought to what my loneliness would be here if you left me?  I could not bear it—­I would go crazy.  I cannot live alone.  Haven’t I been a good sister to you?  Have I ever opposed any wish of yours?  Haven’t I indulged you in everything?”

“Yes—­yes.”

“Then why do you want to leave me for this man whom you hadn’t seen a year ago?”

“I love him, Ellen.”

“Love!  You talk like a school miss instead of a middle-aged woman.  He doesn’t love you.  He wants a housekeeper and a governess.  You don’t love him.  You want to be ’Mrs.’—­you are one of those weak-minded women who think it’s a disgrace to be ranked as an old maid.  That’s all there is to it.”