for support, her lips tightly compressed, feeling as if her
heart would rise up and choke her. She realized instantly that the
crisis had arrived, that Winston's life probably hung upon her next
decision. Twice she endeavored bravely to speak, and when she finally
succeeded, the strange calmness other voice made her doubt her own
sanity.

"Thank you," she said gravely, "you have been most kind,--good-night,"
and vanished up the stairs.

Within the privacy of her own securely locked room Beth Norvell flung
herself upon the narrow bed, not to sleep, not even to rest, but in an
earnest effort to clarify her brain, to gain fresh conception of this
grim reality which fronted her. She realized now precisely what Ned
Winston stood for in her life--must ever stand for until the bitter
end. There was no upbraiding, no reviling. Not in the slightest
degree did she even attempt to deceive herself; with set, tearless
eyes, and without a sigh of regret, she simply faced the naked truth.
She had made the mistake herself; now she must bear the burden of
discovery. It was not the dull inertia of fatalism, but rather the
sober decision of a woman who had been tried in the fire, who
understood her own heart, and comprehended the strength of her own
will. Personal suffering and sacrifice were no new chapters written in
her life; these had been met before, and now, in yet another guise,
they could be courageously met again. She sat up quickly upon the edge
of the bed, her hands pressing back the heavy hair from off her hot
forehead. What right had she to lie there shuddering at destiny when
lives--his life--might be trembling in the balance? She could at least
serve, and, whatever else of weakness may have lurked in Beth Norvell,
there was no germ of cowardice. Clearer and more clear she perceived
duty, until it overshadowed love and brought her upon her feet in
active preparation, in burning desire for action.

Standing before the little mirror, she wondered dimly at those dark
circles beneath her eyes, the unusually sharp lines visible at the
corners of her mouth. She felt hot, feverish, and in hope of thus
relieving the painful throbbing of her temples she buried her face in
the bowl of cool water. Rapidly, almost carelessly, she gathered up
her dishevelled locks, fastening them in some simple, yet secure
fashion back out of the way. From the open trunk standing against the
wall, she caught up a plain, soft hat, one sh