she had dreamed they
would; flowers sprang up along the way, but she did not stop to pluck a
single bud or turn to look at anything. She wandered on in an awful
sort of fright and came at length to the water's edge. Here there
were row-boats lying at anchor, into which the children clambered. Mae
stepped into one of them and sat down in the stern, and looked about.
All was as she had planned. Her day of heaven was here. She tried to be
brave. O, she tried very hard. She wanted to love and enjoy the sea, and
think beautiful thoughts. She roused a little and stretched herself out
to catch the sunbeams in her eyes, as she had said she would. How warm
they were. An umbrella would be a luxury--and a book! But these belonged
to the world she had left so far behind her. The dirty children babbled
a strange tongue; the water around the boat, by the shore, was covered
with a scum, and alas! alas! the land of her desire was farther off than
ever. Then she remembered that Norman Mann had once said: "If you ever
do disappear I shall know where to look for you." Would he think of it
now? Would he come for her? If he had only come last night, and would
drive by now to Sorrento. He would be here soon if he had. Would she
call him loudly or shrink down in the boat and hide her face in her
hands till she knew he was a long way past? The rest of them would not
know where to look for her. They did not know anything about Lisetta,
and she had promised not to tell even the padrona. (Faithless Lisetta!)
But of course Norman wouldn't come for her, after what he had said at
the Capitol. That was what finally drove her away. How unlike him it did
seem to speak of her in that way to Eric. She thought over his words,
and as she did so she seemed to see her mistake, and grasp his meaning.

She sprang up in the boat. "It was the other girl--Miss Rae--he was
speaking of. Oh, oh, oh--and now it is too late. He will hate me
always."

As she stood there, a carriage rolled by. Some one looked out. "O,
mamma," said a young voice in English, "look at that pretty little
peasant," and a kid-gloved hand was stretched through the open window to
spatter a shower of base coin toward her. It was terrible! The children
sprang for it, and, fighting and laughing, ran homewards with the
dreadful Talila. The parti-colored picturesque dress had been a joy to
Mae. Now she longed to tear it off and die--die! No, she was afraid to
die. She would have to live, and she d