house, and Bessie, after taking off her wet clothes, dressed herself
in a wrapper, and took her seat at the open hall-window in the second
story, where she could see the lights through the trees, and even hear
an occasional strain of the music on the night breeze. She felt
depressed; her head ached, and her conscience likewise. "I am always
doing something wrong," she thought ruefully; "I let Hugh pay that
debt; then I teased him out of his idea of telling Aunt Faith, and
made him take me riding again, and when he was kind enough to give in
to my wish, I deliberately went out on that plank when he told me not
to go, and the result was I came near being drowned, and poor Hugh
must have had a struggle to get me out in that current. I suppose he
is over there now talking with Edith Chase! she is an affected, silly
girl, but I suppose Hugh does not understand her as well as I do.
However, perhaps she is better than I am! I am dreadful, I know; and
so homely, too! I look just like an Indian. Edith is considered
pretty. To be sure _I_ think she looks just like a white cat; but
then, some people think white cats are pretty. Well, her looks are
nothing to me. _I_ don't care anything about it!" And in truth of this
assertion, Bessie crouched down among the cushions of the lounge, and
had what girls call "a good cry."

About an hour afterwards she heard a step on the gravel walk in front
of the house, and the sound of a latch-key in the front-door; in
another minute Hugh came up the stairs on the way to his room. "Hugh!
Hugh!" called out a voice in the darkness.

"Is that you, Bessie? What are you doing here?" said her cousin,
lighting a burner in the chandelier. "Why, you have been crying! Does
your head ache? Do you feel faint?"