elves and addressed back to the giver--Sir Francis Drake.

The clock of St. Clement's Danes was chiming midnight when this was done,
and she stood a moment and asked herself, "Is there anything else?" Then
there was a slippered foot on the stair, and somebody knocked.

"It's only me, miss, and can I do anythink for ye?"

Glory opened the door and found Liza there, half dressed and looking as
if she had been crying.

"Nothing, Liza, nothing, thank you! But why aren't you in bed?"

"I can't sleep a blessed wink to-night somehow, miss," said Liza. And
then, looking into the room, "But are ye goin' away somewhere. Miss
Gloria?"

"Yes, perhaps."

"Thort ye was--I could hear ye downstairs."

"Not far, though--just a little journey--go back to bed now. Good-night."

"Good-night, miss," and Liza went down with lingering footsteps.

Half an hour or so afterward Glory heard Rosa come in from the office and
pass up to her bedroom on the floor above. "Dear, unselfish soul!" she
thought, and then she sat down to write another letter:

"Darling Rosa: I am going to leave you, but there is no help for it--I
must. Don't you remember I used to say if I should ever find a man who
was willing to sacrifice all the world for me I would leave everything
and follow him? I have found him, dear, and he has not only sacrificed
all the world for my sake, but trampled on Heaven itself. I can't go to
him now--would to Heaven I could!--but neither can I go on living this
present life any longer. So I am turning my back on it all, exactly as I
said I would--the world, so sweet and so cruel; art, so beautiful and so
difficult, and even 'the clapping of hands in a theatre.' You will say I
am a donkey, and so I may be, but it must be a descendant of Balaam's old
friend, who knew the way she ought to go.

"Forgive me that I am going without saying good-bye. It is enough to have
to resist the battering of one's own doubts without encountering your
dear solicitations. And forgive me that I am not telling you where I am
going and what is to become of me. You will be questioned and examined,
and I feel as much frightened of being overtaken by my old existence as
the poor simpleton who took it into his head that he was a grain of
barley, and as often as he saw a cock or a hen he ran for his life. Thank
you, dearest, for allowing me to share your sweet rooms with you, for the
bright hours we have spent in them, and all the merry jaunts we have had