address and briefly stating that she had taken the name of
Armitage, feeling that she had no right to that of Jocelyn. But
Priscilla could not write, and contented herself with sending her
"dear love and duty and do come back soon," through Robin, who
answered for both in letters that were carefully cold and
restrained. Now that he knew where she was he made no attempt to
visit her,--he was too grieved and disappointed at her continued
absence, and deeply hurt at what he considered her "quixotic"
conduct in adopting a different name,--an "alias" as he called it.

"You have separated yourself from your old home by your own choice
in more ways than one," he wrote, "and I see I have no right to
criticise your actions. You are in a strange place and you have
taken a strange name,--I cannot feel that you are Innocent,--the
Innocent of our bygone happy years! It is better I should not go
and see you--not unless you send for me, when, of course, I will
come."

She was both glad and sorry for this,--she would have liked to see
him again, and yet!--well!--she knew instinctively that if they
met, it would only cause him fresh unhappiness. Her new life had
bestowed new grace on her personality--all the interior
intellectual phases of her mind had developed in her a beauty of
face and form which was rare, subtle and elusive, and though she
was not conscious of it herself, she had that compelling
attraction about her which few can resist,--a fascination far
greater than mere physical perfection. No one could have called
her actually beautiful,--hardly could it have been said she was
even "pretty"--but in her slight figure and intelligent face with
its large blue-grey eyes half veiled under dreamy, drooping lids