She could keep her depression more or less at bay in the presence of her friends, but when later she went to her room to prepare for dinner something like desperation seized her. How was she going to bear it? One last wild fling would have helped her, but this inaction made things infinitely worse, made things intolerable.
While she dressed, she waged a fierce struggle against her tears. She knew that Isabel would be greatly distressed should she detect them, and to hurt Isabel seemed to her the acme of selfish cruelty. She would not give way! She would not!
And then--suddenly she heard a step in the corridor, and her heart leapt. Well she knew that careless, confident tread! But what was he doing there? Why had he come to her door?
With bated breath she stood and listened. Yes, he had paused. In a moment she heard a rustle on the floor. A screw of paper appeared under the door as though blown in by a wandering wind. Then the careless feet retreated again, and she thought she heard him whistling below his breath.
Eagerly she swooped forward and snatched up the note. Her hands shook so that she could scarcely open it. Trembling, she stood under the light to read it.
It was headed in a bold hand: "To Daphne." And below in much smaller writing she read: "Come to the top of the stairs when the band plays _Simple Aveu_, and leave the rest to me.
A wild thrill went through her. But could she? Dared she? Had she not practically promised Isabel that she would go to bed?
Yet how could she go, and leave this direct invitation, which was almost a command, unanswered? And it was only one dance--only one dance! Would it be so very wrong to snatch just that one?
The thought of Scott came to her and the look of sincerity in his eyes when he had told her that she would always be the pleasantest memory he had. But she thrust it from her almost fiercely. Ah no, no, no! She could not let him deprive her thus of this one last gaiety. Apollo had called her. It only remained for her to obey.
She dressed in a fever of excitement, and hid the note--that precious note--in her bosom. She would meet him at dinner, and he would look for an answer. How should she convey it? And oh, what answer should she give?