er voice was harsh from continued struggle with
her complex emotions. She was past all realization of what she owed to
the dignity of his office.

"You have long been of age; you are at liberty to leave Mrs. Champney
whenever you will."

"I am going to." The response came prompt and hard.

"And what then?"

"I don't know--yet--;" her speech faltered; "but I want to try the
stage. Every one says I have the voice for it, and I suppose I could
make a hit in light operetta or vaudeville as well now as when I was a
child. A few years more and I shall be too old."

"And you think you can enter into such publicity without protection?"

"Oh, I'm able to protect myself--I've done that already." She spoke with
bitterness.

"True, you are a woman now--but still a young woman--"

Father Honore stopped there. He was making no headway with her. He knew
only too well that, as yet, he had not begun to get beneath the surface.
When he spoke it was as if he were merely thinking aloud.

"Somehow, I hadn't thought that you would be so ready to leave us
all--so many friends. Are we nothing to you, Aileen? Will you make
better, truer ones among strangers? I can hardly think so."

She covered her face with her hands and began to sob again, but
brokenly.

"Aileen, my daughter, what is it? Is there any new trouble preparing for
you at The Bow?"

She shook her head. The tears trickled through her fingers.

"Does Mrs. Champney know that you are going to leave her?"

"No."

"Has it become unbearable?"

Another shake of the head. She searched blindly for her handkerchief,
drew it forth and wiped her eyes and face.

"No; she's kinder than she's been for a long time--ever since that last
stroke. She wants me with her most of the time."

"Has she ever spoken to you about remaining with her?"

"Yes, a good many times. She tried to make me promise I would stay
till--till she doesn't need me. But, I couldn't, you know."

"Then why--but of course I know you are worn out by her long invalidism
and tired of the fourteen years in that one house. Still, she has been
lenient since you were twenty-one. She has permitted you--although of
course you had the undisputed right--to earn for yourself in teaching
the singing classes in the afternoon and evening school, and she pays
you something beside--fairly well, doesn't she? I think you told me you
were satisfied."

"Oh yes, in a way--so far as it goes. She doesn't begin to pay me as she