th Austen as executor and guardian. In the event of Molly marrying
again, she had been given choice. She might relinquish all right in
the remaining third and keep the child, or by giving up the child
could claim the portion. And the estate was large. In ten months Molly
had chosen.

And yet, thinking of these things, Harriet bade herself be just, chief
tenet in the Blair creed. Was she so certain Alexander had been
altogether unhappy in his marriage? May not compensations arise out
of a man's own nature if he cares for the woman? For Harriet no
longer asked why her brother had married Molly. She knew, knew that
the thing called love is stronger than reason, than life--some even
claimed, than death. Not that she knew it of herself, this calm,
poised Harriet, but, watching, she had seen its miracles.

And out of this, Alexander may have drawn his compensation, for,
stronger than the hourly friction of his daily life, stronger than the
hurt of outraged conventionality, thrift, and pride, stronger than the
jealousy which must have often assailed him, had not love survived in
Alexander to the end, love that protected and concealed Molly's
failings from his own people?

Suddenly, over Harriet swept the breath of roses coming into an open
breakfast room and she saw a stern-lipped man lift, enfold a
child-woman to him for a moment, and as fiercely put her from him and
go out.

Harriet, breathing quickly, put her brother's picture back, and going
to the bed, lifted the bar and drew the sheet again over the child.
Then she stood looking down. What manner of little creature was this
child of Alexander and Molly?

Glancing about to assure herself all was in order, she put the light
out, and, with hand outstretched against the darkness, moved to the
door, when there swept over her again the vision of Molly clinging to
Alexander, and again she felt the surrender of the man, the fierce
closing of his arms, and again she was shaken by his passion.

And even after she reached her room and sat down at her desk to the
ledger of household accounts, it came over her, and she paused, her
hand pressed to her hot cheek.

But that a little creature had cried itself to sleep in the next room
she did not dream. She would have cried herself, had she known it,
she, to whom tears came seldom and hard. But she was a slow awakening
soul, groping, and she did not know.

CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning Harriet sat in Alexina's room p