"Go for a walk now, my child," she said, "Take your dog and run; it
will be good for you."

You may believe I courtesied quickly to them and left the room without
more ado.

When I got out-of-doors and the fresh May air struck my face it seemed
to revive me, and I forgot my ugly future and could think only of
grandmamma--poor grandmamma, going away out of the world, and the
summer coming, and the blue sky, and the flowers. Going away to the
great, vast beyond--and perhaps there she will meet Ambrosine Eustasie
de Calincourt, and all the other ancestors, and Jacques de Calincourt,
the famous friend of Bayard, who died for his lady's glove; and she
will tell them that I also, the last of them, will try to remember
their motto, "_Sans bruit_," and accept my fate also "without noise."

When I got back, my ball-dress had arrived. Hephzibah had unpacked
it, and it was lying on my bed--such billows of pure white!--and it
fitted! Well, it gave me pleasure, with all the uglies looming in the
future, just to try it on.

The Marquis stayed with us. He could not desert his old friend, he
said, in her frail health, when she needed some one to cheer her. I
suspect the Marquis is as poor as we are, really, and that is why
grandmamma could not leave me to him. I am glad he is staying, and now
she seems quite her old self again, and I cannot believe she is going
to die. However, whether or no, my destiny is fixed, and I shall have
to marry Augustus Gurrage.

I did not let myself think of what was to happen at the ball. When one
has made up one's mind to go through something unpleasant, there is no
use suffering in advance by anticipation. I said to myself, "I will
put the whole affair out of my head; there are yet two good days."

Chance, however, arranged otherwise. This morning, the morning of the
ball, while I was dusting the drawing-room, I went to the window,
which was wide open, to shake out my duster, and there, loitering by
the gate, was Mr. Gurrage--at nine o'clock! What could he be doing?
He jumped back as if he had seen me in my nightgown. I suppose it was
because of my apron, and the big cambric cap I always wear to keep the
dust from getting into my hair. A flash came to me--why not get it
over now? He would probably not be so affectionate in broad daylight
as at the ball. So I called out, "Good-morning!"

He came forward up the path and leaned on the window-sill, still
looking dreadfully uncomfortable, hardly dar