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interpretation to Ellinor's ears. Before they had ended, the little birds had begun to pipe out their gay _reveillee_ to the dawn. Then doors closed, and all was profoundly still. Ellinor threw herself, in her clothes, on the bed; and was thankful for the intense weary physical pain which took off something of the anguish of thought--anguish that she fancied from time to time was leading to insanity. By-and-by the morning cold made her instinctively creep between the blankets; and, once there, she fell into a dead heavy sleep. CHAPTER VII. Ellinor was awakened by a rapping at her door: it was her maid. She was fully aroused in a moment, for she had fallen asleep with one clearly defined plan in her mind, only one, for all thoughts and cares having no relation to the terrible event were as though they had never been. All her purpose was to shield her father from suspicion. And to do this she must control herself--heart, mind, and body must be ruled to this one end. So she said to Mason: "Let me lie half an hour longer; and beg Miss Monro not to wait breakfast for me; but in half an hour bring me up a cup of strong tea, for I have a bad headache." Mason went away. Ellinor sprang up; rapidly undressed herself, and got into bed again, so that when her maid returned with her breakfast, there was no appearance of the night having been passed in any unusual manner. "How ill you do look, miss!" said Mason. "I am sure you had better not get up yet." Ellinor longed to ask if her father had yet shown himself; but this question--so natural at any other time--seemed to her so suspicious under the circumstances, that she could not bring her lips to frame it. At any rate, she must get up and struggle to make the day like all other days. So she rose, confessing that she did not feel very well, but trying to make light of it, and when she could think of anything but the one awe, to say a trivial sentence or two. But she could not recollect how she behaved in general, for her life hitherto had been simple, and led without any consciousness of effect. Before she was dressed, a message came up to say that Mr. Livingstone was in the drawing-room. Mr. Livingstone! He belonged to the old life of yesterday! The billows of the night had swept over his mark on the sands of her memory; and it was only by a strong effort that she could remember who he was--what he wanted. She sent Mason down to inquire
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