But Marian was still a pupil of old Wellington, and she was also a young and now a very heart-broken girl. With a throbbing head, she finally arose and bathed her tear-stained face. She was determined to seek out Judith and ask for her intervention before Mrs. Weatherbee should arrive. Out on the lonely path—all the girls were at their studies after the evening meal—Marian pulled up suddenly at the sight of a shadow coming toward her. It was just dark enough to outline the figure as that of a man. Marian stepped out of the path to allow him to pass. First she was impelled to slip behind the big oak tree, then with something of a reckless abandon, she kept to the roadway and encountered the youth face to face, under a dimly burning street lamp. He stopped and raised his hat. Then spoke with an accent, inquiring for the office. Marian directed him, and was passing on when he asked: “Do you happen to know is there here a young lady who is called Helen?” Marian could not repress a smile. A girl named Helen! “Oh, yes. There are a number of Helens here,” she replied. “What other name?” “Oh, I beg pardon,” and he swung his hat with a grace peculiar to cultured foreigners. “I should have said Helen Powderly.” “Oh, yes, I know Helen very well. She is at Ivy Nook,” replied Marian. “But you would have to see her in the office,” she added not unkindly. “I should suppose so,” he agreed. “That is why I shall go to the building. I am glad to know she is still here, and I thank you, mademoiselle.” “You are entirely welcome,” replied Marian. “But I am going toward Helen’s house—could I take the message?” “That would be very kind. I should be glad if Helen knew I—Stanislaus—am here, if mademoiselle would tell her.” “Oh, yes, certainly,” replied Marian, a sting of conscience stabbing her at the utterance of that name “Stanislaus.” That was the name Dolorez had forged to the flower card. And this princely young foreigner was Stanislaus. Marian turned toward Helen’s cottage, a new thought possessing her. Perhaps now she could do something to make amends! She would give Helen the good news and—joy might banish the thought of anger, of revenge! Quickly Marian sped over the campus in the early night shadows, while the stranger continued his way to the office of Wellington College. It was still a reasonable time to receive messages, at least, from the outside world, and the office kept in touch with all the campus houses for any such emergency. But what if Helen were not there? She, Marian, had not been out of her room since that eventful visit of Judith, directly after lunch, and Helen may not have been in Wellington since the day before, so far as she knew. At that time Dolorez had promised, in her threats, she would oust the little Polock and give her a taste of the “sort of treatment” she, Dolorez, had been exposed to.