The surprise petrified her an instant: she uttered an inarticulate exclamation, and stood fixed.
'My dear Miss Catherine,' I began, too vividly impressed by her recent kindness to break into a scold, 'where have you been riding out at this hour?
And why should you try to deceive me by telling a tale?
Where have you been?
Speak!' 'To the bottom of the park,' she stammered.

'I didn't tell a tale.' 'And nowhere else ?' I demanded.
'No,' was the muttered reply.
'Oh, Catherine!' I cried, sorrowfully.

'You know you have been doing wrong, or you wouldn't be driven to uttering an untruth to me.

That does grieve me.

I'd rather be three months ill, than hear you frame a deliberate lie.' She sprang forward, and bursting into tears, threw her arms round my neck.
'Well, Ellen, I'm so afraid of you being angry,' she said.