"Elinor is coming," she said to herself, in dismay. "What shall I do?"
She thought at first that she would go away quietly before they came.
She could not stay and face her proud cousin, Elinor, and the man who had loved her, and then despised her for the stain upon her.
But the thought came into her mind, where would she go? She had never received any of her wages from Mrs. Desmond yet. If she went away she would be utterly friendless and penniless.
She clung to little Ruby because the child loved her very dearly, and without her love she was utterly alone.
And underlying all was a fierce, passionate longing she could not still, to see Bertram Chesleigh's face once more, to hear again that musical, luring voice, whose accents she had hung upon so fondly.
A few days before the first of September, she turned timidly to Mrs. Markham, who was amusing herself with little Ruby down on the sands.
"Mrs. Markham," she said, "will you tell me this, please? Are not green glasses good for weak eyes?"
"I have heard so," replied the lady. "Are your eyes weak, Mary?"
She looked into the girl's face as she spoke, and saw that the sweet, blue eyes were dull and heavy.