Maddened with the pain of it all she sprang up,
determined to go to him and tell him everything.
To throw herself into his arms and beg forgiveness
for her cruelty and crave the protection of his
strength. Then her gaze fell upon her father's portrait!
The cold, steadfast eyes were looking down
upon her as if they could read her very soul. "No!
No!" she sobbed, putting her hands over her eyes
as if to shut out some spectre she had not the courage
to face. "It must not be--it CANNOT be," and she
sank back exhausted.

When the paroxysm was over she rose to her feet,
dried her eyes, smoothed her hair with both hands,
and then, with lips tight pressed and faltering steps,
walked upstairs to where Martha was getting Lucy's
things ready for the coming journey. Crossing the
room, she stood with her elbows on the mantel, her
cheeks tight pressed between her palms, her eyes on
the embers. Martha moved from the open trunk and
stood behind her.

"It was Doctor John, wasn't it?" she asked in a
broken voice that told of her suffering.

"Yes," moaned Jane from between her hands.

"And ye told him about your goin'?"

"Yes, Martha." Her frame was shaking with