hot jealousy which she thought she had
conquered; she seized the two dresses given by Helen, and added them to
those left behind. But the action brought shame, and she replaced them.
And now all the clothes faced her from the open trunks; those from the
island, those which Rast had seen, murmured, "Faithless!" Helen's gifts
whispered, "Ingratitude!" and those of her grandaunt called more loudly,
"Fool!" She closed the lids, and turned toward the window; she tried to
busy her mind with the future: surely thought and plans were needed. She
was no longer confident, as she had been when she first left her
Northern island; she knew now how wide the world was, and how cold. She
could not apply at the doors of schools without letters or
recommendations; she could not live alone. Her one hope began and ended
in Jeanne-Armande. She dressed herself in travelling garb and sat down
to wait. It was nearly noon, probably she would not see Helen, as she
always slept through the morning after a ball, preserving by this
changeless care the smooth fairness of her delicate complexion. She
decided to write a note of farewell, and leave it with Bessmer; but
again and again she tore up her beginnings, until the floor was strewn
with fragments. She had so very much not to say. At last she succeeded
in putting together a few sentences, which told nothing, save that she
was going away; she bade her good-by, and thanked her for all her
kindness, signing, without any preliminary phrases (for was she
"affectionately" or "sincerely" Helen's "friend"?), merely her name,
Anne Douglas.

At one o'clock Bessmer entered with luncheon. Evidently she had received
orders to enter into no conversation with the prisoner; but she took the
note, and promised to deliver it with her own hands. At two the door
opened, and Miss Vanhorn came in.

The old woman's eye took in at a glance the closed trunks and the
travelling dress. She had meant to try her niece, to punish her; but
even then she could not believe that the girl would really throw away
forever all the advantages she had placed within her grasp. She sat
down, and after waiting a moment, closed her eyes. "Anne Douglas," she
began, "daughter of my misguided niece Alida Clanssen, I have come for a
final decision. Answer my questions. First, have you, or have you not,
one hundred dollars in the world?"

"I have not."

"Have you, or have you not, three brothers and one sister wholly
dependent upon you?"