On the way to her house Miss Braithwaite hardly spoke. Cis had feebly protested against returning there, but Miss Braithwaite had decisively told her that there was no question of her going elsewhere, at least till after New Year’s. For one thing, her maid would be away for the rest of that week and Miss Braithwaite wanted someone to talk to; after that she expected to have grown so accustomed to talking to Cicely that she must keep her on. Cis smiled, seeing the kindness that wanted to avoid thanks; too weary to discuss it; at heart relieved that she might stay in this peaceful and noble house, under the spell of its noble, though somewhat eccentric mistress. At lunch Miss Braithwaite told Cis about the two cases which had occupied her that morning, and she succeeded in interesting the girl in spite of her preoccupation with her own thoughts. Miss Braithwaite’s incisive English, clear-cut, finished, like a collection of cameos and intaglios in words, fascinated Cicely’s ear, drawing her mind on to interest in the matter behind the speech. “Would you rather go to your room, or will you keep me company before the fire in the library, Cicely?” asked Miss Braithwaite as they arose from the table. “May I talk to you awhile?” asked Cis. “All the afternoon; I’ve nothing on, and hoped you’d linger with me,” replied Miss Braithwaite, putting her arm around the girl. Thus she led her into that dusky, glowing room which had so charmed Cis on the preceding evening, and again put her into the deep chair of that first acquaintance. “Miss Braithwaite, I’ve been to confession,” Cis said abruptly. “That accounts for the new quiet, an atmosphere of peace about you, Cicely dear,” said Miss Braithwaite, leaning over and putting her hand on the girl’s bright hair. “You have enlisted! Thank God for that. Don’t imagine the victory is won, but your side can’t lose, you know; it’s only a matter of days and weeks! Then your banner on the tower!” “Yes, Miss Braithwaite,” said poor Cis somewhat forlornly. “I am thankful, you know. Only--What must be done I’d better do as quickly, as fast as I can. I promised to let him--let Rod hear from me. He has no idea where I am. He will have looked for me everywhere that I might have been, but he’ll never guess I’m here. He is half mad by now. I must write him and send him this ring. I must tell him it is good-bye. Miss Braithwaite, I can’t see him! I couldn’t bear what he would say to me. I’m afraid to see him, that’s the truth, but it would kill me to say good-bye, see him go away--I can’t stand it!” Cis’s voice rose on a hard, sharp note, and Miss Braithwaite laid her own hand over Cicely’s.