"Please go away!" indignantly answered Ermentrude. She was furious at
this horrible, plain-spoken, jealous creature. Save her from herself--as
if ever she had wavered! The disinterested adoration she had entertained
for the great artist--what a hideous ending was this! The tall, blond
woman with the narrow, light blue eyes watched the girl. How could any
one call her handsome, Ermentrude wondered! Then her visitor noticed the
crumpled letter on the table. With a gesture of triumph she secured it
and smiling her superior smile she left, closing the door softly behind
her.

Only kissed hands are white! Ermentrude threw herself on the couch, her
cheeks burning, her heart tugging in her bosom like a ship impatient at
its anchorage. And was this the sordid end of a beautiful dream?...

"Do you know, dearest, we have had such news!" exclaimed Mrs. Sheldam as
she entered, and so charged with her happiness that she did not notice
the drawn features of her niece. "Charlie, Charlie will be here some
time next week. He arrives at Havre. He has just cabled his father. Let
us go down to meet the boy." Charlie was the only son of the Sheldams
and fonder of his cousin than she dare tell herself. She burst into
tears, which greatly pleased her aunt.

In the train, eight days later, Ermentrude sat speechless in company
with her aunt and uncle. But as the train approached Havre she
remembered something.

"Aunt Clara," she bravely asked, "do you recall the afternoon we spent
at the Kéroulans'? What did Madame Kéroulan tell you then? Is it a
secret?" She held tightly clenched in her hand the arm-rest at the side
of the compartment.