ll asleep overwhelmed amid the ruins
of the old; she awoke already engaged with the duties of the new.
At sundown she was a girl who had never confessed her love; at
sunrise she was a woman who had discarded the man she had just
accepted. Rising at once and dressing with despatch, she entered
upon preparations for completing her spiritual separation from
Rowan in every material way.

The books he had lent her--these she made ready to return this
morning. Other things, also, trifles in themselves but until now
so freighted with significance. Then his letters and notes, how
many, how many they were! Thus ever about her rooms she moved on
this mournful occupation until the last thing had been disposed of
as either to be sent back or to be destroyed.

And then while Isabel waited for breakfast to be announced, always
she was realizing how familiar seemed Rowan's terrible confession,
already lying far from her across the fields of memory--with a path
worn deep between it and herself as though she had been traversing
the distance for years; so old can sorrow grow during a little
sleep. When she went down they were seated as she had left them
the evening before, grandmother, aunt, cousin; and they looked up
with the same pride and fondness. But affection has so different a
quality in the morning. Then the full soundless rides which come
in at nightfall have receded; and in their stead is the glittering
beach with thin waves that give no rest to the ear or to the
shore--thin noisy edge of the deeps of the soul.

This fresh morning mood now ruled them; no such wholesome relief
had come to her. So that their laughter and high spirits jarred
upon her strangely. She had said to herself upon leaving them the
evening before that never again could they be the same to her or
she the same to them. But then she had expected to return isolated
by incommunicable happiness; now she had returned isolated by
incommunicable grief. Nevertheless she glided Into her seat with
feigned cheerfulness, taking a natural part in their conversation;
and she rose at last, smiling with the rest.

But she immediately quitted the house, eager to be out of doors
surrounded by things that she loved but that could not observe her
or question her in return--alone with things that know not evil.

These were the last days of May. The rush of Summer had already
carried it far northward over the boundaries of Spring, and on this
Sunday morning it