“So I think,” the teacher replied, with an affectionate glance at Star. “She has only been with us a year, however. She was hardly up to the mark when she entered the class, although she came highly recommended by Professor Roberts, of Brooklyn. Our standard, you know, is very high. But she was anxious to enter the senior class, and assured us that she would not drag, and said she was particularly anxious to graduate this year.” “And she has done well, I am sure,” the visitor said, bending another admiring glance upon the fair graduate. “She has been one of the most brilliant scholars of the class. Her recitations have been wonderful. I do not think she has made a single failure during the entire year. If she had been with us throughout the course, she must have taken the valedictory; but she has acquitted herself grandly in the French essay, which she composed and translated herself.” “She has, indeed. I never heard purer French spoken, even in Paris. Does she live in the city?” “I believe so, although I do not know where. She comes and goes very quietly, and her clothing indicates that her friends, whoever they may be, are in limited circumstances. She appears to have no intimates, and yet she is a favorite with all. There must be some sorrowful story connected with her life, I think, for there is a haunting sadness in her eyes whenever they meet yours, except when she smiles or becomes animated in conversation; then she is charming.” “I should like to know her,” said the first speaker, musingly; but President Hunter here arose to distribute the diplomas, and she gave her attention to his remarks, although her glance frequently sought the lovely face which had so attracted her attention. The subject of the above conversation, although unconscious of it, was none the less worthy of it. After leaving Jacob Rosevelt on the night of her exciting interview with Mrs. Richards, she sped swiftly back to her room, where she gathered together a few articles of clothing and packed them into a small valise; her school-books also, with her portfolio and the small box which had so aroused Josephine’s curiosity that day when she went to steal Star’s lovely cameo. These preparations ended, she retired to rest. She awoke long before daylight, and dressing herself in a dark street dress, she sat down by the window to wait for the dawn. She penned that little note to Mrs. Blunt the last thing before leaving the house. The woman had been so kind to her that she could not find it in her heart to go away without a single word of farewell; to the others she gave not a thought. As soon as it was light enough, she stole softly down stairs and out at the front door, as it was nearer, and, besides, some of the servants might be up if she went out the back way, and turned her back forever upon the house in which she had only been “tolerated.” When she reached the lodge, she found Mr. Rosevelt waiting for her on the vine-covered porch.