Have you really been here--all these hours?"
"Yes, dear."
"With no rest--nothing to eat or drink?"
"Oh, yes, Austin brought me my dinner, but I ate it sitting beside you,
and wouldn't let him stay--he's so big, he can't help making a noise."
"Does he know?"
"Not yet."
"And father and mother?"
Sylvia was silent.
"Oh, Sylvia, I'm a wicked, wicked girl, but I'm not what you must think!
I'm not a--a murderess! Peter came up behind me on the stairs in the dark
last night, and spoke to me suddenly. It startled me--everything seems to
have startled me lately--and I slipped, and fell, and hurt myself--I
didn't do it on purpose."
"You poor child--you don't need to tell me that--I never would have
believed it of you for a single instant." Then she added, in the strained
voice which she could not help using on the very rare occasions when she
forced herself to speak of something that had occurred during her
marriage, but still as if she felt that no word which might give comfort
should be left unsaid, "Perhaps your mother has told you that the little
baby who died when it was two weeks old wasn't the first that
I--expected.
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