e pursuing furies seem to take the
shape of Bertha Dorset; and close at hand, safely locked among her
papers, lay the means of ending their pursuit. The temptation, which her
scorn of Rosedale had once enabled her to reject, now insistently
returned upon her; and how much strength was left her to oppose it?

What little there was must at any rate be husbanded to the utmost; she
could not trust herself again to the perils of a sleepless night.
Through the long hours of silence the dark spirit of fatigue and
loneliness crouched upon her breast, leaving her so drained of bodily
strength that her morning thoughts swam in a haze of weakness. The only
hope of renewal lay in the little bottle at her bed-side; and how much
longer that hope would last she dared not conjecture.

Chapter 11

Lily, lingering for a moment on the corner, looked out on the afternoon
spectacle of Fifth Avenue. It was a day in late April, and the sweetness
of spring was in the air. It mitigated the ugliness of the long crowded
thoroughfare, blurred the gaunt roof-lines, threw a mauve veil over the
discouraging perspective of the side streets, and gave a touch of poetry
to the delicate haze of green that marked the entrance to the Park.

As Lily stood there, she recognized several familiar faces in the passing
carriages. The season was over, and its ruling forces had disbanded; but
a few still lingered, delaying their departure for Europe, or passing
through town on their return from the South. Among them was Mrs. Van
Osburgh, swaying majestically in her C-spring barouche, with Mrs. Percy
Gryce at her side, and the new heir to the Gryce millions enthroned
before them on his nurse's knees. They were succeeded by Mrs. Hatch's
electric victoria, in which that lady reclined in the lonely splendour of
a spring toilet obviously designed for company; and a moment or two later
came Judy Trenor, accompanied by Lady Skiddaw, who had come over for her
annual tarpon fishing and a dip into "the street."

This fleeting glimpse of her past served to emphasize the sense of
aimlessness with which Lily at length turned toward home. She had nothing
to do for the rest of the day, nor for the days to come; for the season
was over in millinery as well as in society, and a week earlier Mme.
Regina had notified her that her services were no longer required. Mme.
Regina always reduced her staff on the first of May, and Miss Bart's
attendance had of late been so irregula