"You are entirely welcome," replied Marian. "But I am going toward Helen's house--could I take the message?"
"That would be very kind. I should be glad if Helen knew I--Stanislaus--am here, if mademoiselle would tell her."
"Oh, yes, certainly," replied Marian, a sting of conscience stabbing her at the utterance of that name "Stanislaus." That was the name Dolorez had forged to the flower card.
And this princely young foreigner was Stanislaus. Marian turned toward Helen's cottage, a new thought possessing her. Perhaps now she could do something to make amends! She would give Helen the good news and--joy might banish the thought of anger, of revenge!
Quickly Marian sped over the campus in the early night shadows, while the stranger continued his way to the office of Wellington College. It was still a reasonable time to receive messages, at least, from the outside world, and the office kept in touch with all the campus houses for any such emergency.
But what if Helen were not there? She, Marian, had not been out of her room since that eventful visit of Judith, directly after lunch, and Helen may not have been in Wellington since the day before, so far as she knew. At that time Dolorez had promised, in her threats, she would oust the little Polock and give her a taste of the "sort of treatment" she, Dolorez, had been exposed to.
"Yes, there is a light," she murmured, looking up over the little porch at the window she knew to be Helen's. "How shall I tell her?"
Running lightly up the stairs of the tastefully arranged Ivy Nook, Marian was presently at Helen's door. She hesitated, patted her hair, and corrected the flying ribbon of her tie. The situation of meeting Helen now actually confronted her, even the courage so gratefully accepted when down the campus path, seemed waning. But, presently Marian tapped lightly at the door.
There was a step within, and then the door opened. Helen drew back at the sight of her visitor. She had not expected Marian Seaton.
"Oh, Helen," gasped Marian. "I have such good news----"