She put the pen to the paper; she wrote, "Dear Aunt Letitia," then her hand stopped. She sat looking forward; there was a beautiful light upon her face. A clock struck somewhere in the building; it struck twelve. The girl roused herself and looked down at the paper before her. "After all," she thought, "why should I write? How they will hate me! Let Rodney tell them what he chooses." She walked about the room for a few moments. She tried to lie down on the couch, but she could not remain quiet. A fire of memory, and hope, and a strange, indefinite fear were in her heart. Her pulses beat so heavily it was out of the question to try to rest. It seemed to Prudence that she recalled every word she had ever said to Carolyn Ffolliott. Plainest of all she remembered how she had promised not to try to win Rodney back to her. What a ridiculous promise! Could any one expect such a promise to be kept? Absurd! Prudence walked about the room again. She supposed it would be morning sometime. Sometime the hour would strike when she and her lover would be on the ocean and beyond recall. It was a strange thing that she could so clearly remember Carolyn's honest eyes when she had asked for that promise. Prudence shook herself impatiently. Then she tried once more to write the note to her aunt. But she could not do it. She tore the paper across and flung it into the grate; after this she began to walk again. The crow got down on the floor and hopped along behind her, sometimes pecking at the carpet. She turned to him in a kind of fury. She was wishing she had the courage to wring his neck. But she would make him go back in the morning. She could not have him with her. How bright his eyes were! Now, as she gazed at him, she fancied his eyes said: "You're a liar! You're a liar!" Thank fortune, he could not speak. She would surely kill him if he could speak. But she had never killed anything yet, and it must be rather a dreadful thing to do. Still, of course, it could be done. Anything could be done. When it came to be three o'clock the girl was so exhausted that she laid herself on the bed and pulled the clothes up about her. As her fingers touched her throat she shuddered, thinking of how she could stop the crow's breath. She had left the light burning, and she now lifted her head and glanced about. Yes, there was Devil on the back of a chair near the fire. She smiled. "It is like Poe's raven," she murmured. "Perhaps he will say 'nevermore' to me." Then she resolutely shut her eyes, and was asleep directly. A few hours later, in the bright sunlight of a lovely September morning, Prudence scoffed at her fancies of the darkness. She was dressed in her own clothes, and was waiting for Lawrence. She had drunk a cup of strong coffee, and had been walking in the little park near the hotel. No one was out, apparently, save servants and market-men, and then a man or woman hurrying by with a satchel to catch a train.