"There is some one coming with me whom I wish to put under your charge," he wrote; and he knew she would comply with his request. He had resolved to be very careful--there should be no imprudence besides the elopement; his aunt should meet them at the station, Hyacinth should go home with her and remain with her until the hour fixed for the wedding. Hyacinth had taken her life into her own hands, and the balance had fallen. She had decided to go; this gray, dull, gloomy life she could bear no longer; and the thought of a long, dull residence in a sleepy German town with a relative of Lady Vaughan's positively frightened her. Claude had dazzled her imagination with glowing pictures of the future. She did not think much of the right or wrong of her present behavior; the romance with which she was filled enthralled her. If any one had in plain words pointed out to her that she was acting badly, dishonorably, deceitfully, she would have recoiled in dread and horror; but she did not see things in their true colors. All that day Lady Vaughan thought her granddaughter very strange and restless. She seemed unable to attend to her work; she read as one who does not understand. If she was asked a question, her vacant face indicated absence of mind. "Are you ill, Hyacinth?" asked Lady Vaughan at last. "You do not appear to be paying the least attention to what you are doing." The girl's beautiful face flushed crimson. "I do not feel quite myself," she replied. Lady Vaughan was not well pleased with the answer. Ill-health or nervousness in young people was, as she said, quite unendurable--she had no sympathy with either. She looked very sternly at the sweet crimsoned face. "You do not have enough to do, Hyacinth," she said gravely; "I must find more employment for you. Miss Pinnock called the other day about the clothing club; you had better write and offer your services." "As though life was not dreary enough," thought the girl, "without having to sew endless seams by the hour!" Then, with a sudden thrill of joy, she remembered that her freedom was coming. After this one day there would be no more gloom, no more tedious hours, no more wearisome lectures, no more dull monotony; after this one day all was to be sunshine, beauty, and warmth. How the day passed she never knew--it was like a long dream to her. Yet something like fear took possession of her when Lady Vaughan said: "It is growing late, Hyacinth; it is past nine." She went up to her and kissed the stern old face. "Good-night," she said simply with her lips, and in her heart she added "good-by." She kissed Sir Arthur, who had never been quite so harsh with her and as she closed the drawing-room door, she said to herself, "So I leave my old life behind." CHAPTER VI.