"I should like to run away. I can never meet him again, cold and altered, loving me no longer," she sobbed on her pillow that night. And as if in answer to her longing wish a letter came next morning. It was the next day after her father had declared to Miss Prue that he would place her in a convent school for three years. She went to him with a smile, her heart beating with hope, and placed the letter in his hand. "What is it, Ladybird?" "A letter, papa, from my old schoolmistress, Madame Hartman. She and her husband are going abroad in a week for a summer tour, and they take with them our whole graduated class of last year--ten girls, you know, counting me. She has written to ask if you will permit me to join her party. Will you, papa, dearest?" clinging fondly round his neck. "She chaperoned ten girls abroad last year, and they had such a lovely time--lovely! And if I go I must join madame in Richmond this week." "You take my breath away, Ladybird, this is so sudden." "But you will let me go. My heart is quite set on it, papa." "But, my dear, I had hoped to have you for my guest this summer," said Mrs. Winans, who happened to be present. "I thank you, but--I would not like to disappoint Madame Hartman," Ladybird murmured, with a break in her voice. "Then you must be my guest in Washington this winter. I should like to present you to Washington society at the time that Precious comes out. Will you consent, Mr. Conway?" "Gladly," he answered, and Ladybird went over to kiss the lovely, gentle face, and left a tear on Mrs. Winans' cheek. She did not guess it was for her son's sake. Bruce Conway was too much pleased with Madame Hartman's opportune offer to decline it, so it was accepted by telegraph, and her father took her to Richmond next day to join her kind teacher. The Winans family saw her go, with loving regrets and confident hopes of a meeting next fall, forgetting how adversely the winds of fate too often blow. CHAPTER XXVI. "IT IS LOVELY TO LOVE AND BE LOVED." "Love is as bitter as the dregs of sin, As sweet as clover honey in its cell; Love is the password whereby souls get in To heaven--the gate that leads sometimes to hell. Dear God above Pity the hearts that know--or know not--Love!" --ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. In due time Ethel received a letter from Lord Chester, announcing his safe arrival in England. But to her surprise and chagrin the young man made no mention of the mysterious matter that had called him away. "Can it be that Arthur deceived me? That he invented an excuse to get away from me? What if he means to break his troth?" she thought, with instant, angry suspicion. But when she noticed how pale her sister's young cheek had grown while she read her letter, she smoothed the frown from her brow and cried out gayly: