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