ers," I pleaded.

"Mrs. Flaxman knows our hotel. She will be safe when she reaches there,
which will be in a few minutes now. So you need not be troubled about
her. I shall not leave you," he said, decidedly.

We went back into the car, which was nearly empty; but, some way, I felt
as content and safe as if we had joined Mrs. Flaxman at the hotel. Mr.
Winthrop sat near, but he did not seem in a mood just then for
conversation. I think he felt chagrined at his carelessness, but I was
wicked enough to enjoy it. I leaned my head back against my easy-chair
and furtively watched my guardian, as he sat writing in a large blank
book which he took from his pocket after awhile. I had never before had
such opportunity to study, in repose, the strong, intellectual face. As
I watched the varying moods of his mind, while he thought and wrote, it
reminded me of cloud-swept meadows on a summer's day--the sunshine
succeeding the shadow. I fancied that the mask which conceals the
workings of the spirit life became partly transparent and luminous, and I
seemed to see poetic fancy and noble thoughts weaving their wondrous webs
back somewhere in the fastnesses of the soul. And then I glanced around
at the other occupants of the car; and, fancy being alert, all their
faces reminded me of so many masks, with the real individual sheltered
behind in its own secure fastness, and all the while industriously
weaving the web of life; always vigilant, ever throwing the shuttle;
whether wisely or foolishly, only the resultant action could determine.
But the faces grew indistinct; the steady movement back and forth of the
writer's hand no longer interested me, for I was asleep. I do not know
how long I had slept. My hat had slipped to the floor; my heavy coils of
hair, usually difficult to keep in proper control, had unloosened by the
constant motion of the car and fallen in heavy rings about my shoulders.
I opened my eyes suddenly to find that my guardian had put away his
writing, and was standing near, regarding me, I fancied, with a look
of displeasure.

"I did not mean to fall asleep," I faltered, while I quickly coiled up my
hair, and put on my hat.

"It is my fault you slept in this public place. I had forgotten about
you."

I looked at him with an admiration almost amounting to awe, thinking how
engrossed he must have become in his own thoughts to have forgotten me so
perfectly; and then I speculated on the irony of fate in placing one so