and she finished what she was doing in a kind of blind passion. It was as
though she held her father's dying form in her arms, protecting him
against the same meddling and tyrannical force that had injured him while
he lived, and was still making mouths at him now that he was dead.

She and Augustina went to the sea--to Folkestone, for Augustina's health.
Here Mrs. Fountain began to correspond regularly with her brother, and it
was soon clear that her heart was hungering for him, and for her old home
at Bannisdale. But she was still painfully dependent on Laura. Laura was
her maid and nurse; Laura managed all her business. At last one day she
made her prayer. Would Laura go with her--for a little while--to
Bannisdale? Alan wished it--Alan had invited them both. "He would be so
good to you, Laura--and I'm sure it would set me up."

Laura gave a gulp. She dropped her little chin on her hands and thought.
Well--why not? It would be all hateful to her--Mr. Helbeck and his house
together. She knew very well, or guessed what his relation to her father
had been. But what if it made Augustina strong, if in time she could be
left with her brother altogether, to live with him?--In one or two of his
letters he had proposed as much. Why, that would bring Laura's
responsibility, her sole responsibility, at any rate, to an end.

She thought of Molly Friedland--of their girlish plans--of travel, of
music.

"All right," she said, springing up. "We will go, Augustina. I suppose,
for a little while, Mr. Helbeck and I can keep the peace. You must tell
him to let me alone."

She paused, then said with sudden vehemence, like one who takes her