hall; the house was one blaze of light. In the drawing-room, Bertha, already dressed, was speaking to Willem, the butler; the doors were open, showing the long table glittering through its flowers.
"What's the matter with Frances?" asked Bertha, seeing Frances come in slowly, looking very pale, leaning on Louise's arm.
"I'm better now, Mamma . . . I thought I was dying . . ."
At that moment, there was a loud peal at the front-door bell.
"Who can that be?"
One of the footmen opened the door.
"Who is it?" asked Bertha, softly, from the stairs.
"It's I, Mamma!"
"Emilie!"
"Yes . . . I . . ."
Emilie came up. She had flung down a wet waterproof in the hall and was very pale; her hair hung in disorder over her face.
"But, Emilie . . . what's the matter?"
She had flown upstairs precipitately, seeing nothing; now she suddenly perceived the rooms, all open and lit up, with the long table and the flowers; and she remembered that there was a dinner-party . . .
"I've run away!" she said. "I'm not going back!"
"Run away!"
