scilla, and all this morning,
and--I have made up my mind."

"You mean to write--?"

"Yes."

"To tell Mr. Cassilis that you will--marry him?"

"Yes."

But now Miss Priscilla rose, and, next moment, was kneeling beside
Anthea's chair.

"Oh my dear!" she pleaded, "you that I love like my own flesh and
blood,--don't! Oh Anthea! don't do what can never be undone. Don't give
your youth and beauty to one who can never--never make you happy,--Oh
Anthea--!"

"Dear Aunt Priscilla, I would rather marry one I don't love than have to
live beholden all my days to a man that I--hate!" Now, as she spoke,
though her embrace was as ready, and her hands as gentle as ever, yet
Miss Priscilla saw that her proud face was set, and stern. So, she
presently rose, sighing, and taking her little crutch stick, tapped
dolefully away, and left Anthea to write her letter.

And now, hesitating no more, Anthea took up her pen, and wrote,--surely
a very short missive for a love-letter. And, when she had folded, and
sealed it, she tossed it aside, and laying her arms upon the table, hid
her face, with a long, shuddering sigh.

In a little while, she rose, and taking up the letter, went out to find
Adam; but remembering that he had gone to Cranbrook with Small Porges,
she paused irresolute, and then turned her steps toward the orchard.
Hearing voices, she stopped again, and glancing about, espied the
Sergeant, and Miss Priscilla. She had given both her hands into the
Sergeant's one, great, solitary fist, and he was looking down at her,
and she was looking up at him, and upon the face of each, was a great
and shining joy.

And, seeing all this, Anthea felt herself very lonely all at once, and,
turning aside, saw all things through a blur of sudden tears. She was
possessed, also, of a sudden, fierce loathing of the future, a horror
because of the promise her letter contained. Nevertheless she was firm,
and resolute on her course because of the pride that burned within her.

So thus it was that as the Sergeant presently came striding along on his
homeward way, he was suddenly aware of Miss Anthea standing before him;
whereupon he halted, and removing his hat, wished her a
"good-afternoon!"

"Sergeant," said she, "will you do something for me?"

"Anything you ask me, Miss Anthea, mam,--ever and always."

"I want you to take this letter to--Mr. Cassilis,--will you?"

The Sergeant hesitated unwontedly, turning his hat about and about in
hi