s to seem to be of
long standing.

Her mind was quick and her invention fertile, and before she slept that
night her plans were well along. She was to lose herself
utterly--where and how she would determine later. She would, at the
proper moment, disappear absolutely and mysteriously, yet not without
leaving behind her satisfactory and reassuring explanation for the two
persons to whom it would mean most--nay, three--she mustn't forget her
stepmother. She would write to Elsie Marley that she had felt obliged
to take the step for the sake of her own future, and would entreat her
to go on as she was and never to let any one know what had happened.
And she would leave a long letter for Cousin Julia to discover on her
return from the office the day of her departure. She would tell her
how she loved her--better than any one else she had ever known except
her mother--and how she had never been so happy in her life as with
her. Then she would make the same enigmatical but satisfactory
reference to her future and how it made the step imperative, adding
that if Cousin Julia could understand, she would agree that she
couldn't have done otherwise.

When she had reached this point, Elsie's heart sank. Disappearance
might be preferable to death, but it seemed as if it were going to be
quite as painful. But only for her, and after all, that was where the
pain belonged. The girl cried herself to sleep that night, but she
woke next morning with a sense of relief so active and positive that it
seemed like refreshment and almost like joy. She realized why it was:
her mind hadn't been wholly at ease before since the day in the summer
when she had first seen Mr. Graham, and for the past days she had lived
in torture. The removal of the burden was almost like unsnapping the
cover of a Jack-in-the-box. She was going to be good and straight and
honest again. She was going to make amends, so far as in her lay, for
the wrong she had done. She was going--_away_!

Here Elsie faltered. But she sprang from bed before depression could
swoop down upon her. And while she was dressing a suggestion came to
her that sent her to the breakfast-table with a serene and even joyful
face. It had come to her that she would better not attempt to carry
out her resolve until after Christmas, lest she mar Cousin Julia's or
Elsie Marley's enjoyment of the day. She would act immediately after
Christmas, beginning the New Year with a clean slate.