three years ago. "It is very wonderful, very wonderful," she
thought, and she awoke with a start, and Mademoiselle Helbrun saw she
had not been listening. She answered Louise's subsequent remarks, and
was glad that what had been had been. She was giving it all up, it was
true, but it was not as if she had not known life.

The sun was shining on the great brown river, and out of the
smoke-dimmed sky white creamy clouds were faintly rising. Evelyn's eyes
had wandered out there, and she seemed to see a thin face and hard, cold
eyes, and she asked Louise abruptly what the time was, for she had
forgotten her watch. It was only just three o'clock. She returned to the
Munich performances, but Louise could see that Evelyn was all the time
struggling against an overmastering fate. The only thing she could think
of was that Evelyn was being forced into a marriage or an elopement
against her will. Once or twice she thought that Evelyn was going to
confide in her. She waited, afraid to say a word lest she should check
the confidences that her friend seemed tempted to entrust her with.
Evelyn's eyes were dull and lifeless. Louise could see that they did not
see her, and it was with an effort that Evelyn said, "I am sorry I did
not see your Frika;" and once started she rattled on for some time,
hardly knowing what she was saying, arguing about the music and
expressing opinions about everything and everybody. Stopping abruptly,
she again asked her friend what time it was. Louise said that she must
not go, and then tried to induce her to come for a drive with her; but
Evelyn shook her head--she was engaged. There was no trace of colour in
her face, and when Louise asked when they should meet again, she said
she did not know, but she hoped very soon. She might be obliged to go to
Paris to-morrow, and she had to pay some visits to Scotland at the end
of the month. Louise did not like to question her, for she was sure that
some momentous event was about to happen. As she drove away Louise said,
"I should not be surprised if she did not play Kundry next year."

While wondering at the grotesque movement of the trotting horse, Evelyn
tried once more to save herself from this visit to St. Joseph's. She
thought of what it would cost her--her present life! Her lovers were
gone already, and Monsignor would tell her that she must give up the
stage. But these considerations did not alter the fact that she was
going to St. Joseph's. She was rolling