"And that would break my heart," she sighed tearfully.
So when Earle was declared out of danger she began to shrink at the very thought of meeting him again. The memory of his last proud look of resentful scorn remained always in her thoughts.
"I should like to run away. I can never meet him again, cold and altered, loving me no longer," she sobbed on her pillow that night.
And as if in answer to her longing wish a letter came next morning.
It was the next day after her father had declared to Miss Prue that he would place her in a convent school for three years.
She went to him with a smile, her heart beating with hope, and placed the letter in his hand.
"What is it, Ladybird?"
"A letter, papa, from my old schoolmistress, Madame Hartman. She and her husband are going abroad in a week for a summer tour, and they take with them our whole graduated class of last year—ten girls, you know, counting me. She has written to ask if you will permit me to join her party. Will you, papa, dearest?" clinging fondly round his neck. "She chaperoned ten girls abroad last year, and they had such a lovely time—lovely! And if I go I must join madame in Richmond this week."
"You take my breath away, Ladybird, this is so sudden."