told himself that any other man, in his position, would do as he had
done, yet it was as though some one had slipped a stiletto under his
armour and found a vulnerable spot.

Before his mental vision hovered two women. One was a girl of twenty,
laughing, exquisitely lovely. The other was a bent and broken woman in
black, whose veil concealed the dreadful hideousness of her face.

"Pshaw!" grumbled Doctor Dexter, aloud. "I've overworked, that's all."

He determined to vanquish the spectre that had reared itself before
him, not perceiving that Remorse incarnate, in the shape of Evelina,
had come back to haunt him until his dying day.




V

Araminta

"Araminta," said Miss Mehitable, "go and get your sewing and do your
stent."

"Yes, Aunt Hitty," answered the girl, obediently.

Each year, Araminta made a new patchwork quilt. Seven were neatly
folded and put away in an old trunk in the attic. The eighth was
progressing well, but the young seamstress was becoming sated with
quilts. She had never been to school, but Miss Mehitable had taught