d, and half an hour
later Anne went away, definitely, although at a very small salary,
engaged.

She went directly home, locked her door, took paper and pen, and began
to write. "Dear Rast," she wrote. Then, with a flood of remorseful
affection, "Dear, dear Rast." Her letter was a long one, without break
or hesitation. She told him all save names, and asked him to forgive
her. If he still loved her and wished her to be his wife, she was ready;
in truth, she seemed almost to urge the marriage, that is, if he still
loved her. When the letter was completed she went out and placed it in a
letter-box with her own hands, coming home with a conscience more free.
She had done what she could. The letter was sent to the island, where
Rast still was when she had heard from him the last time before leaving
Caryl's; for only seven days had passed since then. They seemed seven
years.

A day later she wrote to Miss Lois, telling of Miss Vanhorn's action,
her new home and change of position. She said nothing of her letter to
Rast or the story it told; she left that to him to relate or not as he
pleased. In all things he should be now her master.

When this second letter was sent, she asked herself whether she could
write to Helen. But instantly the feeling came surging over her that she
could not. In addition there was the necessity of keeping her new abode
hidden. No one knew were mademoiselle was, and the younger woman had now
the benefit of that carefully woven mystery. She was safe. She must not
disturb that safety.

To one other person she felt that she must write, namely, Miss Vanhorn.
Harsh as had been the treatment she had received, it came from her
mother's aunt. She wrote, therefore, briefly, stating that she had
obtained a teacher's place, but without saying where it was. This
letter, inclosed in another envelope, was sent to a friend of
Jeanne-Armande in Boston, and mailed from that city. Anne had written
that a letter sent to the Boston address, which she inclosed, would be
immediately forwarded to her. But no reply came. Old Katharine never
forgave.

The school opened; the young teacher had a class of new scholars. To her
also were given the little brothers who were allowed to mingle with the
flock until they reached the age of eleven, when they were banished to
rougher trials elsewhere; to these little boys she taught Latin grammar,
and the various pursuits in the imperfect tense of those two well-known
grammar wo