"Hush!" said one of the graver ladies. "You know it could not be Jane Hallet. Did you find Jack Tuff?"
"No: his poor mother's gone home crying. What a trouble sons are! But--may I go and see if Jane is in her room?"
It was really very obstinate of Sister Caroline: but she was allowed to go. Down she came with a rush.
Jane was not in her room.
Several of the Sisters, excited by the news, trooped up in a body to see. Very true. The room had been made neat by Jane, but there was no trace of herself. On the table lay some lines in pencil addressed to Sister Mildred.
A few lines of grateful, heartfelt thanks for the kindness shown to her, and an imploring hope that the ladies would think of her with as little harshness as they could. But not a single word to tell of whither she had gone.
"Pray Heaven she has not done anything rash!" mentally cried Sister Mildred with pale cheeks, as she thought of the dangers of the path that led to that part of the coast called the Limpets.
[CHAPTER XXXIV.]
CHANGED TO PARADISE.
The winter season was coming in, but not yet winter weather, for it was mild and balmy: more like a fine September than the close of November.