service" to the quiet old house and dream-haunted garden, had thought it
would be a good place for Isabel for a time, and had hoped she might not
find it too dull to endure.

Madame Bernard had no patience with Mrs. Ross. When she had come for a
brief holiday, fifteen years before, bringing her child with her, she
had just begun to be influenced by the modern feminine unrest. Later she
had definitely allied herself with those whose mission it is to
emancipate Woman--with a capital W--from her chains, forgetting that
these are of her own forging, and anchor her to the eternal verities of
earth and heaven.

A single swift stroke had freed Mrs. Ross from her own "bondage."
Isabel's father had died, while her mother was out upon a lecturing
tour--in a hotel, which is the most miserable place in the world to die
in. The housekeeper and chambermaids had befriended Isabel until the
tour came to its triumphant conclusion. Mrs. Ross had seemed to consider
the whole affair a kindly and appropriate recognition of her abilities,
on the part of Providence. She attempted to fit Isabel for the duties of
a private secretary, but failed miserably, and, greatly to Isabel's
relief, gave up the idea.

Madame Bernard had looked forward to Isabel's visit with a certain
apprehension, remembering Mrs. Ross's unbecoming gowns and careless
coiffures. But the girl's passion for clothes, amounting almost to a
complete "reversion to type," had at once relieved and alarmed her. "If
I can strike a balance for her," she had said to herself in a certain
midnight musing, "I shall do very well."

As yet, however, Isabel had failed to "balance." She dressed for morning