Feeling obliged to make her word good, she took the path which
led to Miss Ainslie's. As she entered the gate, she had a glimpse
of Winfield, sitting by the front window of Mrs. Pendleton's
brown house, in such a dejected attitude that she pitied him. She
considered the virtuous emotion very praiseworthy, even though it
was not deep enough for her to bestow a cheery nod upon the
gloomy person across the way.

Miss Ainslie was unaffectedly glad to see her, and Ruth sank into
an easy chair with something like content. The atmosphere of the
place was insensibly soothing and she instantly felt a subtle
change. Miss Ainslie, as always, wore a lavender gown, with real
lace at the throat and wrists. Her white hair was waved softly
and on the third finger of her left hand was a ring of Roman
gold, set with an amethyst and two large pearls.

There was a beautiful serenity about her, evident in every line
of her face and figure. Time had dealt gently with her, and
except on her queenly head had left no trace of his passing. The
delicate scent of the lavender floated from her gown and her
laces, almost as if it were a part of her, and brought visions of
an old-time garden, whose gentle mistress was ever tranquil and
content. As she sat there, smiling, she might have been Peace
grown old.

"Miss Ainslie," said Ruth, suddenly, "have you ever had any
trouble?"

A shadow crossed her face, and then she answered, patiently,