The juices of the crushed leaves soon wet the mask through and through, making her face wet and sticky. The greenish odor of the weed was sickening, and the poor child found her condition unpleasant to say the least. She tossed restlessly from side to side in the vain effort to find sleep, but slumber fled her call. The night wore on, and the mask became so oppressive that it seemed to stifle her.
"I can not stand it," she exclaimed at last, springing out of bed. "I can not! I shall smother."
She reached up to tear off the bandages that bound the suffocating thing on, but paused in the act.
"I must not give up," she said aloud. "I should be sorry in the morning if I did. I must stand it somehow, even though the night does seem as if it would never end. I must bear it."
Fortified by this determination she drew a chair to the window and tried to distract her thoughts by humming softly to herself.
"I know," she thought, tiring of this pastime. "I'll see if I can't make up some poetry, and forget all about the horrid thing. If it were not for father I would not stand it for a second. Let me see! I have it:
"Bee was an ugly duckling, And Adele a princess fair; Bee's locks were black and heavy, Adele had yellow hair.
"Pshaw! That's sing-songy. I'll try again:
"Adele's hair is sunny and golden, Mine is as black as sin; For there's nothing yellow about me Excepting my yellow skin.
"Dear, dear! It's most as hard to make rhymes as to be beautiful. How long the night is!"
She arose and paced the floor restlessly. Eleven, then twelve o'clock struck. In all her life she had never spent a night without sleep. A first experience is very trying, and the hours seem interminable. At two o'clock she was about as miserable as she could well be, and only the thought of her father made her hold to her determination to stick it out. Suddenly she remembered that she had left a book she was reading on the library table.
"I'll go down and get it," she ejaculated, pleased with the distraction. "If anything will make me forget myself it's the 'Woman in White.'"
Suiting the action to the word she lighted a small night lamp, and glided softly down the stairs to the library. Turning the knob gently she opened the door, stepped across the threshold, and then--It was a wonder that she did not shriek aloud; for there in the room were two men, one of whom held a bag into which the other was putting the household silver which was piled on the table in front of them. They wore slouch hats drawn well down over their faces, and were working by the light of a dark lantern.