footstep; no more hurried walk through the streets, looking neither to
right nor to left; no more inward struggles wearing away her life.

To-morrow--to-morrow--no, this very night, her grandfather and one other,
even Maitresse Aimable, should know all; and she should sleep quietly--
oh, so quietly to-night!

Looking into a mirror on the wall--it had been a gift from her
grandfather--she smiled at herself. Why, how foolish of her it had been
to feel so much and to imagine terrible things! Her eyes were shining
now, and her hair, catching the sunshine from the window, glistened like
burnished copper. She turned to see how it shone on the temple and the
side of her head. Philip had praised her hair. Her look lingered for a
moment placidly on herself-then she started suddenly. A wave of feeling,
a shiver, passed through her, her brow gathered, she flushed deeply.

Turning away from the mirror, she went and sat down again on the edge of
the veille. Her mind had changed. She would go to the Dean's--but not
till it was dark. She suddenly thought it strange that the Dean had
never said anything about the license. Why, again, perhaps he had. How
should she know what gossip was going on in the town! But no, she was
quick to feel, and if there had been gossip she would have felt it in the
manner of her neighbours. Besides, gossip as to a license to marry was
all on the right side. She sighed--she had sighed so often of late--to
think what a tangle it all was, of how it would be smoothed out tomorrow,
of what--

There was a click of the garden-gate, a footstep on the walk, a half-
growl from Biribi, and the face of Carterette Mattingley appeared in the
kitchen doorway. Seeing Guida seated on the veille, she came in quickly,