“She will very likely be down soon. She is studying hard to-night; she seems determined to come out high in the exam. I shouldn’t wonder if she beats even you, Edith.” “Do you notice how much better Linnæa March learns her lessons since Gwendoline came?” “Yes. Gwendoline helped her with them, and she takes ever so much more interest in them now.” “All in the plan, I suppose—really I am very sorry for Linnæa.” “Did you think she could ever have looked as she did to-night? I always thought her rather soft and stupid, but I can tell you there was no softness about her then. I almost admired her as she stood, so proud and angry.” The girls were not to have an opportunity of preparing Gwendoline for her meeting with Linnæa, for, as Linnæa went up to her room, she met Gwendoline coming down from hers. Gwendoline’s face lit up as she saw Linnæa, and she advanced towards her to put her arm round her waist. Linnæa drew herself back with a sudden twitch, and turned on her with a face almost livid with anger. “Go!—don’t touch me!—don’t dare to come near me!” “Linnæa! what is it?” “I have found you out! Do you need to ask any more? I know the reason of all your pretence of affection and friendship. Oh, it was mean! mean!” “But Linnæa——” “No, I will hear no excuses; let me go. Perhaps to-morrow I may be able to look on you with a little less hatred. The others have been kind to me compared to you; they, at least, let me alone; you have drawn me on with your false pretences, all to show your dangerous powers of fascination. I despise you! O that I might never see you again!” Gwendoline walked away in the direction of the small schoolroom, her head bowed. She entered the room, and, sitting down near the door, began to read a book she had in her hand. The girls noticed at once that something was wrong. Her face was white and drawn and she did not, as usual, make some bright remark on entering the room; but they did not guess that she had already met Linnæa. “Have you a headache, Gwen?” said Edith Barclay. “Yes, I have a headache; and I want you to tell Miss Elder I have gone to bed, as I mean to go in a minute or two.” “You are studying too hard,” said another, “you won’t keep your position as beauty of the school, if you carry on in this style. I declare you look quite ill!” “I think we ought to tell you something, Gwendoline,” Janet Hillyards said, summoning up courage to confess the havoc they had just played. “What is it?” asked Gwendoline, with a vague idea of the confession about to be made. “We were talking—talking about the joke you were playing upon Linnæa—and—and she overheard us.” “I know. I met her just now.” Gwendoline kept her head down, and continued to look at the book in her hand; but the words had no meaning for her, if, indeed, she saw them at all.