common way. You shall hear all about it."

In the brief interval that had passed, the weather had begun to
change again. The wind was as high as ever; but to judge by the
lessening patter on the windows the rain was passing away.

Emily began.

She was too grateful to her friend and school-fellow, and too
deeply interested in her story, to notice the air of indifference
with which Francine settled herself on her pillow to hear the
praises of Cecilia. The most beautiful girl in the school was not
an object of interest to a young lady with an obstinate chin and
unfortunately-placed eyes. Pouring warm from the speaker's heart
the story ran smoothly on, to the monotonous accompaniment of the
moaning wind. By fine degrees Francine's eyes closed, opened and
closed again. Toward the latter part of the narrative Emily's
memory became, for the moment only, confused between two events.
She stopped to consider--noticed Francine's silence, in an
interval when she might have said a word of encouragement--and
looked closer at her. Miss de Sor was asleep.

"She might have told me she was tired," Emily said to herself
quietly. "Well! the best thing I can do is to put out the light
and follow her example."

As she took up the extinguisher, the bedroom door was suddenly
opened from the outer side. A tall woman, robed in a black
dressing-gown, stood on the threshold, looking at Emily.