Only a few nights after her determined journal entry, Beatrice found the Professor out in the garden again on another night, sitting on the same bench, staring at the moon, just as before. Was he waiting for me? she thought. But it was a setting better than she could have hoped for.

“Is this seat taken, Sir?”

“Oh! Uh…”

“Don’t be afraid. I’m not the strange woman your mother warned you about.”

“Heh…” Though her words seemed humorous, he felt an edge to them and he knew she was not in a joking mood.

She sat down, this time as far away as the width of the bench allowed. “You were straight with me before and I’m going to be straight with you now. Don’t run off this time. I won’t frighten you.”

“You…”

“Shhh! Let me talk!”

She continued rapidly as though she had rehearsed the words so she would get them all out without fumbling. “Do you still think of me as a child? Don’t answer; it’s a rhetorical question. I’m older than you by far but I don’t mistake fewer years for lack of maturity. I’m offended that you, on the other hand, appear to mistake my face for immaturity. It’s not fair and it’s not my fault. Or maybe you find my being a vampire repellent? You didn’t mind being close to me before. You let me take blood. But you ran away from my touch last time we were here and I’m hurt by it and I won’t take it. Not from you.”

Her voice became shaky; she was on the verge of tears. “Because I like you. Because I like you so much I’m afraid to tell you. Because you’re the only one who can hurt me that way. So…” She stood up and faced him. He noticed her hands were clenched into fists. “…you decide. If you’re going to run from me, I won’t chase you.”

She turned and ran back to the mansion entrance, leaving him no opportunity to formulate a reply.

As he sat there, recalling what he’d done over the last several days and wondering what he ought to do, Gwendolyn came outside, marched over and stopped behind the bench. “I saw Beatrice just now. She was crying. Don’t be a fool, Professor.”

“I’m trying not to be.”

“It seems to me you’re trying very hard to be a fool.”

He turned to reply without even knowing just what he would say but she was already striding away.

{From the Professor's Journal}

I’ve tried. I really have. Pushing poor Beatrice away is the hardest thing I’ve tried to do in a very long time. She knows something’s wrong.

It breaks my heart when she tries to tease me as she is used to doing and then her voice fades away when she sees I’m not playing along. It feels like I’m kicking an affectionate kitten. I hate it. I hate myself for doing it. Tonight, I’ve decided I’m not going to do it anymore.

Mistress could have me killed, or worse, but I think she’s more reasonable than that. Though it may be too late already to undo what I’ve done to Beatrice.