"However, say nothing to-night. Make some excuse for me; for I must be
alone."

So Miss Alida left the sorrowful girl; but as she disrobed herself,
she muttered: "What a miracle of ill-luck! I thought something
unpleasant would come of Yanna's high spirits--the girl was what the
Scotch call _fey_. Harry Filmer is a born fool, and a cultivated
fool, and a reckless fool, and every other kind of a fool! Indeed, he
is not _a_ fool, he is _the_ fool of the universe. Everything in his
hand, and he could not hold it! I will give him a lecture to-night--if
he comes to-night, which I doubt. That siren has him in a net, he will
go to the opera to see her dance; he will forget Yanna, and then,
to-morrow, he will talk of a headache--or an important engagement--and
Yanna will despise him far more than if he told the whole truth.
To-morrow, of course, for I am sure he will not come to-night; and it
is Yanna's last night in the city, too. Men take the heart out of you
if you mind their goings-on."

Miss Alida was right. Harry did not call, and Peter sat and talked
with Miss Alida, worrying a little all the time about his daughter's
sickness. And he was glad when Yanna sent to ask him if he could be
ready for the early train; for Peter felt that the end of the visit
had come, and that no pleasure could be obtained by drawing out what
was already finished. So, while it was yet very early in the morning,
Peter and Yanna went away; and Yanna was unavoidably sad, and yet, in
the midst of her sadness, she was conscious of that strange
gratification which we may call a sense of completeness. Even to the
painful events of her visit, it gave her that bitter-sweetness that
all experience when they watch a lover out of sight or the last red
spark die out of the gray ashes that were once love letters. One
chapter of life was finished. Yes, she told herself, quite finished in
some respects. She had watched Harry leave her in a way that she felt
must be final. And Antony and Rose had gone to their own life. When
they returned, Antony would be changed, and Rose would be changed,
and she also would be changed. Nothing could ever again be just as it
had been.

A few hours after Peter and his daughter had left the city, Miss Alida
was sitting with an open book in her hand. Her life had not been
without love and lovers, and she was remembering rather than reading
when she saw Harry coming up the steps to the door. She knew that he
expected to take l