I was not free to resume the interrupted chain of my reflections till bedtime: even then a teacher who occupied the same room with me kept me from the subject to which I longed to recur，by a prolonged effusion of small talk. How I wished sleep would silence her. It seemed as if，could I but go back to the idea which had last entered my mind as I stood at the window，some inventive suggestion would rise for my relief.

Miss Gryce snored at last; she was a heavy Welsh-woman，and till now her habitual nasal strains had never been regarded by me in any other light than as a nuisance; to-night I hailed the first deep notes with satisfaction; I was debarrassed of interruption; my half-effaced thought instantly revived.

"A new servitude! There is something in that," I soliloquised (mentally，be it understood; I did not talk aloud). "I know there is，because it does not sound too sweet; it is not like such words as Liberty，Excitement，Enjoyment: delightful sounds truly; but no more than sounds for me; and so hollow and fleeting that it is mere waste of time to listen to them. But Servitude! That must be matter of fact. Any one may serve: I have served here eight years; now all I want is to serve elsewhere. Can I not get so much of my own will? Is not the thing feasible? Yes- yes- the end is not so difficult; if I had only a brain active enough to ferret out the means of attaining it."

I sat up in bed by way of arousing this said brain: it was a chilly night; I covered my shoulders with a shawl，and then I proceeded to think again with all my might.

"What do I want? A new place，in a new house，amongst new faces，under new circumstances: I want this because it is of no use wanting anything better. How do people do to get a new place? They apply to friends，I suppose: I have no friends. There are many others who have no friends，who must look about for themselves and be their own helpers; and what is their resource?"