Anna the Adventuress

Brendon rushed to the piano and strummed out a tune.

The others hurried to the window. And Anna was conscious of a few

moments of exquisite emotion. After all, life had still its

pulsations. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before

had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at

that moment of regret or even pity.

She called them back very soon.

The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have

stolen into her face. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new

timidity in her manner.

"My friends," she said, "my dear friends, I am going to make the same

answer to all of you--and that is perhaps you will say no answer at

all. At present I cannot marry, I will not become bound even to any

one. It would be very hard perhaps to make you understand just how I

feel about it. I won't try. Only I feel that you all want to make life

too easy for me, and I am determined to fight my own battles a little

longer. If any of you--or all of you feel the same in six months' time

from to-day, will you come, if you care to, and see me then?"

There was a brief silence. Ennison spoke at last.

"You will sign the contract?"

"I shall sign the contract. I think that I am very fortunate to have

it to sign."

"Do you mean," Courtlaw asked, "that from now to the end of the six

months you do not wish to see us--any of us?"

Her eyes were a little dim again.

"I do mean that," she declared. "I want to have no distractions. My

work will be all sufficient. I have an aunt who is coming to live with

me, and I do not intend to receive any visitors at all. It will be a

little lonely sometimes," she said, looking around at them, "and I

shall miss you all, but it is the fairest for myself--and I think for

you. Do not avoid me if we meet by accident, but I trust to you all

not to let the accident happen if you can help it."

Brendon rose and came towards her with outstretched hand.

"Good-bye, Miss Pellissier, and success to you," he said. "May you

have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you

forget us."

Courtlaw rose too.

"You are of the genus obstinate," he said. "I do not know whether to

wish you success or not. I will wish you success or failure, whichever

is the better for you."

"And I," Ennison said, holding her fingers tightly, and forcing her to

look into his eyes, "I will tell you what I have wished for you when

we meet six months from to-day."