ed by one
idea. The cool wind, too, had begun to tell upon his nerves. He drew
rein on the mare and stopped. For the first time since the captain's
story had reached his ears his reason began to work. He was never an
impetuous man; always a thoughtful and methodical one, and always
overparticular in respecting the courtesies of life. He began suddenly
to realize that this midnight visit was at variance with every act of
his life. Then his better judgment became aroused. Was it right for him
to wake Jane and disturb the house at this hour, causing her, perhaps,
a sleepless night, or should he wait until the morning, when he could
break the news to her in a more gentle and less sensational way?

While he sat thus wondering, undetermined whether to drive lightly out
of the gate again or to push forward in the hope that someone would be
awake, his mind unconsciously reverted to the figure of Jane making her
way with weary steps down the gangplank of the steamer, the two years
of her suffering deep cut into every line of her face. He recalled the
shock her appearance had given him, and his perplexity over the cause.
He remembered her refusal to give him her promise, her begging him to
wait, her unaccountable moods since her return.

Then Lucy's face came before him, her whole career, in fact (in a
flash, as a drowning man's life is pictured), from the first night
after her return from school until he had bade her good-by to take the
train for Trenton. Little scraps of talk sounded in his ears, and
certain expressions about the corners of her eyes revealed themselves
to his memory. He thought of her selfishness, of her love of pleasure,
of her disregard of Jane's wishes, of her recklessness.

Everything was clear now.

"What a fool I have been!" he said to himself. "What a fool--FOOL! I
ought to have known!"

Next the magnitude of the atonement, and the cruelty and cowardice of
the woman who had put her sister into so false a position swept over
him. Then there arose, like the dawning of a light, the grand figure of
the woman he loved, standing clear of all entanglements, a Madonna
among the saints, more precious than ever in the radiance of her own
sacrifice.

With this last vision his mind was made up. No, he would not wait a
moment. Once this terrible secret out of the way, Jane would regain her
old self and they two fight the world together.

As he loosened the reins over the sorrel a light suddenly flashed from