appearance. In their company she sought to be cheerful, and in a measure
succeeded; but the thought of the morrow pressed upon her. In another
brief twenty-four hours this place where she had first known the wonder
and the glory of life would know her no more. In two days she would be
back in the old bondage, chained once more to the oar, with the dread of
her mother ever present in her heart, however fair the world might be.

She could keep her depression more or less at bay in the presence of her
friends, but when later she went to her room to prepare for dinner
something like desperation seized her. How was she going to bear it? One
last wild fling would have helped her, but this inaction made things
infinitely worse, made things intolerable.

While she dressed, she waged a fierce struggle against her tears. She
knew that Isabel would be greatly distressed should she detect them, and
to hurt Isabel seemed to her the acme of selfish cruelty. She would not
give way! She would not!

And then--suddenly she heard a step in the corridor, and her heart leapt.
Well she knew that careless, confident tread! But what was he doing
there? Why had he come to her door?

With bated breath she stood and listened. Yes, he had paused. In a moment
she heard a rustle on the floor. A screw of paper appeared under the door
as though blown in by a wandering wind. Then the careless feet retreated
again, and she thought she heard him whistling below his breath.

Eagerly she swooped forward and snatched up the note. Her hands shook so
that she could scarcely open it. Trembling, she stood under the light to
read it.