In the bitter days that followed, the girl felt hideously lonely and abandoned. A sense of disgrace scorched her isolation. People believed wicked, abominable things of her, and there was no way to change their minds. The friend upon whose loyalty she had most depended had under the severest conditions deserted. She cried a great deal at night, till one day a letter came that brought a rebound.
For a minute or two it seemed hard to believe the reality of this message. It read:
“Your friends, the Calixters, have left the Islands. He was offered something better at home, and her health had failed.
“She didn’t have time to write you, but she did tell me what those people down there were trying to do to you. It is not my custom ever to stand by and see my friends hurt.
“Father Hull and I are arranging your transfer to Manila. I beg you not to remain an hour longer in that awful spot.
“Father Hull will meet you when you come north—as I am now leaving for China. I cannot say when. I shall be back, but I shall certainly see you again. Until then—
“Barry McChord.”
“Would he indeed come back!” Julie recalled what Mrs. Calixter had said: “Each time he goes he says he may not.”
There was another letter from Manila—from Isabel Armistead:
“I saw the Calixters before they sailed. They said you were about to come north, out of your hermit wilds; and they intimated that things had not gone well with you. How could they indeed! The Green God and I are still your friends. We will show you a better fortune than you have ever found before.