.
The tears were in his eyes--I saw them. Oh, I've hurt him--hurt him!
And yet, dear God, thou knowest I could not help it."

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 her sobs.

"And about Lucy?"

"No, I could not."

Martha leaned forward and laid her hand on Jane's shoulder.

"Poor lassie!" she said, patting it softly. "Poor lassie! That was the
hardest part. He's big and strong and could 'a' comforted ye. My heart
aches for ye both!"

CHAPTER VIII

AN ARRIVAL

With the departure of Jane and Lucy the old homestead took on that
desolate, abandoned look which comes to most homes when all the life
and joyousness have gone from them. Weeds grew in the roadway between
the lilacs, dandelions flaunted themselves over the grass-plots; the
shutters of the porch side of the house were closed, and the main gate
always thrown wide day and night in ungoverned welcome, was seldom
opened except to a few intimate friends of the old nurse.

At first Pastor Dellenbaugh had been considerate enough to mount the
long path to inquire for news of the travelers and to see how Martha
was getting along, but after the receipt of the earlier letters from
Jane telling of their safe arrival and their sojourn in a little
village but a short distance out of Paris, convenient to the great
city, even his visits ceased. Captai