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Her thoughts flew to the attic. In the attic she was Charlotte Corday: she had arrived at Paris; the greatest moment of her life was at hand. In the boudoir she was a little girl eavesdropping. Yes, it was an ugly position. She wriggled, then remained quiet, for the most awful thing of all would be to be found out.

"What day did you say the dear child was to go to her school?" asked Miss Neil.

"Next Tuesday. This is Wednesday—not a week off now."

"By the way, Mary," said Miss Neil suddenly, "have you told the child?"

"I have not Julia; and, what is more, I do not intend to. I shan't say anything whatever about it until the night before. What is the use in making her miserable? When she hears she will have no time to be sorry; she will be far too surprised; and when she gets to school her new and pleasant life will absorb her altogether. I want you to take her, by the way, Julia, for neither her father nor I can spare the time."

"When do you start yourselves?"

"Early on Tuesday morning. It is all so sudden. Of course, my dear husband is greatly pleased, for a great honor has been conferred on him. But for this we should not have sent Christian from home."