She next removed her jewels
and exchanged her rich costume for the simplest in her wardrobe, and
having donned cloak and hat, extinguished the light, and softly unlocking
the door, stepped into the hall.
Perfect silence reigned in the house. As she stood listening the clock in
the sitting-room struck three. There was no time to lose. The early
summer dawn would soon arrive, and, before the first servants of
neighbours were stirring she must be outside the grounds and well on her
way.
There was a late risen moon, and enough light penetrated the house to
enable her to make her way without difficulty. As she passed Paul's door
she stopped and stood leaning her forehead against the casement for some
minutes. At last she knelt and pressed her lips to the threshold, and,
choking down a sob, went on downstairs. As she passed through the
sitting-room she paused a moment before the picture. "Forgive me," she
whispered, looking up at the dimly visible face of Ida Ludington, and
passed on. Unfastening a window that opened upon the piazza, she stepped
forth and closed it behind her.
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