letters to my father," she went on, "when he was
away from her on his sketching excursions, You have still a little time
to spare--I should so like to read some of them to you. I was reading
one, last night--which perhaps accounts for my dream? It is on a subject
that interests everybody. In my father's absence, a very dear friend of
his met with a misfortune; and my mother had to prepare his wife to hear
the bad news--oh, that reminds me! There is something I want to say to
you first."

"About yourself?" Miss Minerva asked.

"About Ovid. I want your advice."

Miss Minerva was silent. Carmina went on. "It's about writing to Ovid,"
she explained.

"Write, of course!"

The reply was suddenly and sharply given. "Surely, I have not offended
you?" Carmina said.

"Nonsense! Let me hear your mother's letter."

"Yes--but I want you to hear the circumstances first."

"You have mentioned them already."

"No! no! I mean the circumstances, in my case." She drew her chair
closer to Miss Minerva. "I want to whisper--for fear of somebody passing
on the stairs. The more I think of it, the more I feel that I ought to
prepare Ovid for seeing me, before I make my escape. You said when we
talked of it--"

"Never mind what I said."

"Oh, but I do mind! You said I could go to Ovid's bankers at Quebec,
and then write when I knew where he was. I have been thinking over
it since--and I see a serious risk. He might return from his inland
journey, on the very day that I get there; he might even meet me in the
street. In his delicate health--I daren't think of what the consequences
of such a surprise might be! And then there is the dreadful necessity
of telling him, that his mother has driven me into taking this
desperate step. In my place, wouldn't you feel that you could do it more
delicately in writing?"

"I dare say!"

"I might write to-morrow, for instance. To-morrow is one of the American
mail days. My letter would get to Canada (remembering the roundabout way
by which Teresa and I are to travel, for fear of discovery), days and
days before we could arrive. I should shut myself up in an hotel at
Quebec; and Teresa could go every day to the bank, to hear if Ovid was
likely to send for his letters, or likely to call soon and ask for them.
Then he would be prepared. Then, when we meet--!"

The governess left her chair, and pointed to the clock.

Carmina looked at her--and rose in alarm. "Are you in pain?" she asked.

"Yes