.

"I think," Anice said to Grace, "that Joan must go away from here and
find a new life."

"That is the only way," he answered. "In this old one there has been
nothing but misery for her, and bitterness and pain."

Fergus Derrick was sitting at a table turning over a book of engravings.
He looked up sharply.

"Where can you find a new life for her?" he asked. "And how can you help
her to it? One dare not offer her even a semblance of assistance."

They had not spoken to him, but he had heard, as he always heard,
everything connected with Joan Lowrie. He was always restless and eager
where she was concerned. All intercourse between them seemed to be at an
end. Without appearing to make an effort to do so, she kept out of his
path. Try as he might, he could not reach her. At last it had come to
this: he was no longer dallying upon the brink of a great and dangerous
passion,--it had overwhelmed him.

"One cannot even approach her," he said again.

Anice regarded him with a shade of pity in her face.

"The time is coming when it will not be so," she said.

The night before Joan Lowrie had spent an hour with her. She had come in
on her way from her work, before going to Thwaite's, and had knelt down
upon the hearth-rug to warm herself. There had been no light in the room
but that of the fire, and its glow, falling upon her face, had revealed
to Anice something like hag-gardness.

"Joan," she said, "are you ill?"

Joan stirred a little uneasily, but did not look at her as she answered:

"Nay, I am na ill; I nivver wur ill i' my loife."

"Then," said Anice, "what--what is it that I see in your face?"

There was a momentary tremor of the finely moulded, obstinate chin.

"I'm tired out," Joan answered. "That's all," and her hand fell upon her
lap.

Anice turned to the fire.

"What is it?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

Joan looked up at her,--not defiant, not bitter, not dogged,--simply in
appeal against her own despair.

"Is na theer a woman's place fur me i' th' world? Is it allus to be this
way wi' me? Con I nivver reach no higher, strive as I will, pray as I
will,--fur I _have_ prayed? Is na theer a woman's place fur me i' th'
world?"

"Yes," said Anice, "I am sure there is."

"I've thowt as theer mun be somewheer. Sometimes I've felt sure as theer
mun be, an' then agen I've been beset so sore that I ha' almost gi'en it
up. If there is such a place fur me I mun find it--I mun!"

"You will find