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completely unimpressed. “That’ll never help you get a fellow.”
    â€œI’m not interested in beaux,” I said, beginning to find the girl’s familiarity a bit trying.
    â€œSure you are,” Susie persisted. “Every girl is. Didn’t you meet any fellows at that school?”
    â€œWe were kept under strict supervision.”
    â€œHa! That wouldn’t-a stopped me .”
    It hadn’t stopped Jamintha either, I thought, remembering the escapades she had described with such delight. How many times had she slipped over the wall? How many times had she crept into my room, dreamy-eyed and smiling a weary smile? Had I secretly envied her? Had I wished I had the spirit to live with boldness and dash? Of course not, I told myself, arranging the dresses on their hangers and closing the wardrobe door. I was too cool and rational not to see the folly of such conduct.
    â€œYou could get a beau if you wanted one, Miss Jane,” Susie said quietly. “You have very nice features.”
    â€œI’m sure you mean well, Susie, but I have no illusions about myself. Mirrors don’t lie.”
    My voice was stiff and formal, discouraging any further comments, but Susie was undeterred.
    â€œThose braids are far too severe,” she remarked. “Your hair should fall in loose, natural waves, framing your face. I could do wonders with you. A new hairstyle, a bit of powder, a spot of rouge—”
    â€œThat will be quite enough, Susie,” I said sharply. “What are we to do with this trunk?”
    â€œThere’s an empty wardrobe down the hall. I sometimes keep my mops and dust rags there. It’s more than big enough to hold the trunk.”
    Empty now, the trunk was still heavy, and Susie found it difficult to lift. I went over to help her, dropping my formal manner. The girl was a lively, amiable creature, naturally enthusiastic. She had meant no harm. I was sorry I had been so harsh.
    Together we carried the trunk a few yards down the back hall to where the old mahogany wardrobe stood. The varnish was peeling, and the piece was so large that it almost blocked the passage. Susie tugged on the knob, trying to open it, but moisture had caused the wood to swell and the door was stuck. It was only after several minutes of frantic pulling that it finally swung open, creaking on its hinges. We stored the trunk inside, closed the heavy door and returned to my room.
    â€œIs there anything else I can do for you?” Susie inquired.
    â€œEverything seems to be in order,” I replied.
    â€œThe backstairs lead directly down into the kitchen,” she told me. “Cook never locks anything up. Perhaps I could fetch you a snack, a glass of milk, maybe—”
    â€œNo, thank you, Susie. When is breakfast served?”
    â€œNo one ever has breakfast together,” she told me. “Cook and I arrange trays and carry them in. I’ll bring yours when I wake you up.”
    â€œThat will be fine.”
    â€œWelcome to Danver Hall, Miss Jane,” she said.
    The girl executed a clumsy curtsy and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. I had been eager to be rid of her, but now that she was gone the room seemed curiously forlorn. I stood quietly for a few minutes, trying to master my emotions. I was alone at last, and that was when the sadness came, when the panic seemed to well up and threaten to overcome me. I knew I couldn’t give way to it. I knew I had to cope, but it was going to be extremely difficult.
    Self pity is for fools, Jane, I admonished myself. You are eighteen years old, a grown woman. Act like a grown woman.
    I briskly began to prepare for bed, forcing myself to put all disturbing thoughts aside. Removing my dress and petticoats, I hung them in the wardrobe and, wearing only a thin cotton chemise, sat down at the dresser to unbraid my hair. I brushed it vigorously, staring into the mirror with level blue-gray eyes. A black