“There is one chance left, and I shall take it. When I have paid my debt of gratitude to my guardian by marrying Giles Bennett, I—I—shall not be among the living to-morrow!”
“Do you mean it, Leola?”
“I swear it,” answered the girl, recklessly, and Miss Tuttle knew, by the somber gaze of the beautiful dark eyes, that it was true. Life, that had flowed along like a silvery rippling stream between flower-fringed banks, had suddenly become a muddy torrent rushing onward to destruction, and naught could stay its onward course. Desperate, reckless, she was ready to rush unbidden into the Great Beyond, daring the unknown future in terror of the awful present.
“Oh, Leola, you must not! It would be a terrible sin! Promise me you will not!” cried the poor soul, timorously.
But Leola’s shut lips kept a deadly silence, and Miss Tuttle continued, conciliatory:
“If you could escape this marriage, Leola, would you then be willing to live?”
The sudden gleam of hope in the dark eyes assured her that Leola might yet find something to live for in her shadowed life, and she continued:
“Dearie, I have a plan that might help you. I’ve been turning it over and over in my mind, but I never should have broached it had it not been for your dreadful threat.”
“Tell it to me,” implored the girl, and glancing cautiously around, that none might overhear, Miss Tuttle bent and whispered some rapid words into Leola’s ear.
A light began to dance in the dark eyes, the pale lips smiled a little, and Leola cried: