"Why are you doing this for me?"

Constance opened her mouth to respond and then seemed to think better of it. Finally she shrugged and said, "I've been bored lately."

Moonlight splashed over the bed, touching the face of its occupant before spilling onto the blue French carpet. It was no use; she was too restless to sleep. Throwing the covers back, Noelle slipped from the bed and went to the window.

The trim grounds, washed in silver light, stretched in front of her before disappearing into a grove of budding elms. Softly she slid the window open and then knelt on the floor in front of it, resting her arms on the sill.

The spring air was chill; it smelled green, like the season. It was a silly fancy, and she smiled as she lay her cheek in the crook of her arm. The night was so clear that the stars seemed to be suspended just above her head on invisible cords. It was as though the heavens had been cracked open to admit her.

Was that what was happening? Was Constance Peale going to be the one to crack the heavens open for her?

She'd dreamed of being able to read for as long as she could remember, sensing that there was a world waiting to be unlocked if she only had the proper key. Even as a child her mind had been active, restless, ready to devour any new scrap of information that was put in its path. She craved more but was unable to satisfy her gnawing hunger because there was no one to teach her. Daisy herself could not read. As with many actresses of the time, she learned her parts with the aid of a reader, a person whose profession it was to recite an actor's lines until the part was memorized.

Noelle remembered a humid summer evening shortly after she was eleven. She was walking near the docks, trying to sell some battered walnuts, when she spied a grizzled old sailor sitting on a pile of rope, a tattered book open in his lap. Her curiosity driving her closer, she could see his lips moving soundlessly as he pored over the page in front of him. When he finally looked up and saw her staring at him, he offered to show her his book.

She could still remember his grimy finger with the misshapen knuckle pointing out letters to her; the excitement shooting through her when he offered to teach her more.

She also remembered her revulsion when his gnarled hand slipped under her skirt and moved upward along the inside of her calf. He drew back quickly enough when the point of her knife pressed against his throat. She never saw him again and, after that, she gave up her search for a teacher. Nothing came free, and she had no money to pay anyone.

Now all that had changed. The woman she had named her enemy seemed about to become her teacher. Reluctantly she acknowledged a growing respect for Constance. But Noelle's pride would not permit her to accept Constance's gift without giving something in exchange. Since she had no money, the payment could only be a token and it was obvious to Noelle exactly what that token must be. She must extend at least some measure of courtesy to Constance. No more dinner-table mischief or open rudeness. In the short time she had left in this house, she would do her best to forget the conversation she had overheard. She would check her insolence.

The short time she had left… Could she learn to read so quickly? She must. A chance such as this would never again present itself.

Being able to read was going to make all the difference for her. She would never have to go back to her life on the streets. No more living with the fear of being caught and imprisoned. No more hair dyes and rouge. Perhaps she could find work in a shop. Anything would be possible.

But what made her think her remaining time here would be short? If only she knew the day her monthly flow should begin, but she had always been so irregular-sometimes going three weeks, sometimes two months-that she had long ago abandoned marking the time.

A baby. She shivered as a raw gust of air penetrated her cotton nightdress. Could fate be so cruel?

Her mind rebelliously shut out the possibility. Pulling her head back into the room, she slid the window closed and padded across the carpet to her bed.

Images of small children with hungry eyes and empty bellies plagued her as she slipped between the fragrant sheets. Now there was no one to take care of the little group of urchins she had been feeding with her own pennies, the pennies she could ill afford to spare.

Laying her head back on the soft pillow, she sighed, doubting whether she would ever be able to save her money, even if she did get a job in a shop. At the first sight of a hungry face, her purse strings would always open. Still, what was the use of a new dress or a pretty bonnet when the money could be put to better use buying cups of hot eel soup and loaves of bread?

Outside a night owl called to its mate, but the young girl in the elegant blue bedroom did not hear. She had finally fallen into a troubled sleep haunted by nightmare images.

She was lying in front of a fireplace, the heat from the flames searing her naked skin. Her arms had been shackled above her head, her legs spread and pinioned. Simon and Constance, dressed in evening attire, were sipping sherry from crystal soup bowls and watching her, while starving children huddled in the corners of the room. Occasionally Constance would walk toward her, poke at her body with an elegantly slippered foot, and shake her head sadly.

"Poor creature. What a pity; she's not done yet. Ah, well, soon she'll be ready."

Then they were all gone, and Quinn was with her, his figure enveloped in a black cape. "You should have told me you couldn't read. Now I'm going to have to punish you for your stupidity."

His face, a mask of unleashed savagery, loomed over her, coming closer and closer until his blazing eyes seemed to be cutting into her soul. Pulling her naked limbs from the shackles, he raged at her.

"Hang by the neck until dead!"

Then they were all around her, even the children, circling and shrieking, "Hang her! Hang her! Hang her!"

Letty's knock awakened Noelle. What a horrible nightmare! She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, shutting out the daylight.

"Come in."

"Morning, Miss Pope," Letty murmured. "Do you want your tray on the table, or would you rather eat in bed?"

Noelle struggled into a sitting position. "On the table," she muttered. She felt awful; the smell of the warm rolls, instead of whetting her seemingly unappeasable appetite, was making her stomach churn. "Take it away, Letty," she croaked. "I've changed my mind." As an afterthought, she added, "Leave the tea."

"Yes, miss." Letty darted a curious glance at Noelle and then removed the tray from the room.

Noelle fell back on the pillow and took several deep gulps of air. That awful nightmare-it had actually made her ill. Lifting her head slightly, she peered at the small clock on her nightstand. It was after eight-thirty; she had to hurry to be in the library by nine o'clock. Perhaps the tea would help settle her stomach.

She drank it hot and strong and did seem to feel better for it. After stepping out of her nightgown, she washed and brushed her hair, tucking the frizzled strands behind her ears. The navy blue dress was being laundered that day so she resigned herself to an itching neck and stepped into the brown merino. Barely glancing at her image in the mirror, Noelle sped from the room, almost colliding with Constance in the hallway.

Constance's green eyes regarded her reproachfully. "I'm happy to see you are prompt, Noelle. However, a bit less haste would be more seemly."

"Yes, Mrs. Peale," Noelle said, smiling sweetly and then smothering a giggle at the sight of Constance's suspiciously lifted eyebrows.

Constance proved to be an excellent, if demanding, instructor. Since Noelle already recognized the letters of the alphabet, Constance began teaching her the sound each letter made. Noelle's quick mind absorbed all the information Constance gave her, and by the end of the morning she could slowly read down the columns of words Constance had printed out for her.

"Hat, cat, fat, pat, rat, sat, tat, bat… had, bad, lad, mad, pad, sad." Slowly she sounded out each word.

Finally Constance pushed herself back from the library table, where they were seated, and consulted a gold watch pinned to the bodice of her gray cashmere dress. "I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow we will begin work on the sounds that are produced when letters are combined."

Noelle looked up, her mind full of its new discoveries. How tantalizing it was… the way letters became sounds and sounds fit together to form words. "How long do you think it will be before I can read something by myself?"

"That's difficult to say, Noelle. You're my first pupil, so I really have no experience to draw upon. I do know we still have much to do. However, you learn very quickly and are certainly most conscientious about applying yourself." Constance paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I believe I know just the thing."

She walked to the library shelves, where she climbed up on a small stool and pulled a book from a shelf above her head. "This is Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe," she said, handing a worn volume to Noelle. "As you can see, it's a bit the worse for wear; it was one of Benjamin's favorites."

As Noelle studied the first page Constance remembered another one who had loved it. She could see him now, perched on a branch of the tall elm that stood near the back of the house, an unruly lock of black hair tumbling over his brow, this same book open in his lap. Her inability to have a child of her own had been like a knife in her heart that summer as she had watched him running and climbing, building a raft. Life was so ironic! Here she was sitting with his wife, and she didn't dare share the memory.