The music came to her in soft waves of far-off harmony. The doors which divided the inner chapel from the outer gave it a faint sound, as if it were miles away; each note, however, was distinct; no sound was lost. The boys’ voices rose high in the air; they were angelic in their sweetness. Prissie was incapable, at that moment, of taking in the meaning of the words she heard, but the lovely sounds comforted her. The dreadful weight was lifted, or, at least, partially lifted, from her brain; she felt as if a hand had been laid on her hot, angry heart; as if a gentle, a very gentle, touch was soothing the sorrow there. “I am ready now,” said Hammond when the service was over. “Will you come?” She rose without a word and went out with him into the quadrangle. They walked down the High Street. “Are you going back to St. Benet’s?” he asked. “Oh, no— oh, no!” “‘Yes,’ you mean. I will walk with you as far as the gates.” “I am not going back.” “Pardon me,” said Hammond, “you _must_ go back. So young a girl cannot take long walks alone. If one of your fellow-students were with you, it would be different.” “I would not walk with one of them now for the world.” “Not with Miss Oliphant?” “With her least of all.” “That is a pity,” said Hammond gravely, “for no one can feel more kindly toward you.” Prissie made no response. They walked to the end of the High Street. “This is your way,” said Hammond, “down this quiet lane. We shall get to St. Benet’s in ten minutes.” “I am not going there. Good-by, Mr. Hammond.” “Miss Peel, you must forgive my appearing to interfere with you, but it is absolutely wrong for a young girl, such as you are, to wander about alone in the vicinity of a large university town. Let me treat you as my sister for once and insist on accompanying you to the gates of the college.” Prissie looked up at him. “It is very good of you to take any notice of me,” she said after a pause. “You won’t ever again after— after you know what I have been accused of. If you wish me to go back to St. Benet’s, I will; after all, it does not matter, for I can go out by and by somewhere else.” Hammond smiled to himself at Prissie’s very qualified submission. Just then a carriage came up and drove slowly past them. Miss Oliphant, in her velvet and sables, was seated in it. Hammond sprang forward with heightened color and an eager exclamation on his lips. She did not motion to the coachman to stop, however, but gave the young man a careless, cold bow. She did not notice Priscilla at all. The carriage quickly drove out of sight, and Hammond, after a pause, said gravely; “You must tell me your troubles, Miss Peel.”