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.

“APOLLO.”

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?

Looking back afterwards, it seemed to her that Fate had pressed her hard that night,—­so hard that resistance was impossible.  When she was dressed in the almost childishly simple muslin she looked herself in the eyes and fancied that there was something in her face that she had never seen there before.  It was something that pleased her immensely giving her a strangely new self-confidence.  She did not wot that it was the charm of her coming womanhood that had burst into sudden flower.

At the last moment she cast all her scruples away from her, and snatched up a slip of paper.

“I will be there.  Daphne,” were the words she wrote, and though her conscience smote her as she did it, she stifled it fiercely.  Had she not promised him that one dance long ago?

She met him at dinner with a face of smiling unconcern.  The new force within had imbued her with a wondrous strength.  She exulted in the thought of her power over him, transient though she knew it to be.  Deep down in her heart she was afraid, yet was she wildly daring.  It was her last night, and she was utterly reckless.

She left her note in his hand with the utmost coolness when she bade him good night in the vestibule.  She bade good night to Scott also, but she met his eyes for no more than a second; and then she had to stifle afresh the sharp pang at her heart.

She went away up the stairs with Isabel, leaving them smoking over their coffee, leaving also the dreamy strains of the band, the gay laughter and movement of the happy crowd that drifted towards the ballroom.

Isabel accompanied her to her room.  “You are a dear, good child,” she said tenderly, as she held her for a last kiss.  “I shall never forget how sweetly you gave up the thing you wanted so much.”