old scenes, the familiar faces."

He still holds her to him, his pulses thrilling at her softened tone,
as he answers, "Yes."

"I am really going back to the farm, Giddy," she says the following
day, "to vegetate, and grow young again among the primroses and
violets. The lawn will be yellow with crocus flowers, and I can almost
smell the hyacinths. I promised them faithfully I would return when
the birds began to sing!"

"You must give me your address," says Giddy. "I should like to write."

Eleanor looks at her shrewdly.

She has never quite forgotten the "Lady MacDonald" or "the party"
episode. It is the recollection of this that makes her state, with a
certain pride, the pleasure she feels in visiting her people.

"I will give it you on one condition," she replies.

"And that?"

"Promise me faithfully on _no_ account to pass it on to Carol Quinton."

"Why not?"

"Because I have gone too far, Giddy. I want to get away from his
influence. You know he dogs my footsteps, tracks, and haunts me. I
dare not trust myself. I am going away for a course of discipline,
simple living, and country pursuits. I know, if you promise, I can
trust you."

She holds out a paper on which her address is written, but keeps her
palm over the letter until Giddy shall make the promise.

"I swear," says Mrs. Mounteagle.

CHAPTER XII.

TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW.--_Shakespeare_.

Eleanor is superintending her packing, when Giddy Mounteagle enters her
room.

"I called and ran straight up, dear," she says, "knowing you were busy.
What! are you only taking so small a trunk into the country?"

"Yes, no finery, only two stuff dresses and a felt hat. I want to
forget there is such a thing as Society or 'toilettes.' I am going to
have a good time with all the farm people, and the school children, and
be just as I was before I married. There are some of my clothes still
hanging up in my old room, I shall put them on, and grub in the garden,
rake, weed, and mow. Our poor machine was dreadfully cranky before I
left; I should think it has fallen to pieces by now, but I mean to have
a try. Mother's bit of front lawn is the pride of her heart. Black
Bess will meet me at the station, and Rover--dear affectionate dog. I
shall swing on the gate and whistle, and----"

But Eleanor's prattle breaks off shortly, for her throat feels
strangled, and the misery that Giddy clearly sees beneath her smiles
overm