A little grave with a white cross over it--that was all.

She had left no friends to weep for her, none.

But even as she thought it, a recollection rose up in her mind of Eustace Meeson's pleasant, handsome face, and of his kind words, and with it came a pang as she reflected that, in all probability, she should never see the one or hear the other again.

Why, she wondered, had he not come to see her again?
She should have liked to bid him "Good-bye," and had half a mind to send him a note and tell him of her going.

This, on second thoughts, however, she had decided not to do; for one thing, she did not know his address, and--well, there was an end of it.
Could she by the means of clairvoyance have seen Eustace's face and heard his words, she would have regretted her decision.