when you can't be quite certain that she has
entertained them."

"I should be greatly astonished if she hadn't," answered Mrs. Hastings.

Hastings made an expressive gesture. "Oh," he remarked, "you'll no doubt
do what you think wisest. When you come to me for advice you have
usually made up your mind, and you merely expect me to tell you that
you're right."

Mrs. Hastings thought over the matter for another hour or two. For one
thing, Agatha's quiet manner puzzled her, and she did not know that the
girl had passed a night in agony of anger and humiliation, and had then
become conscious of a relief of which she was ashamed. There was,
however, no doubt that while Agatha blamed herself in some degree for
what had happened, she did feel as if a weight had been lifted from her
heart. She was sitting alone in a shadowy room watching the light die
off the snowy prairie outside, when Mrs. Hastings came softly in and sat
down beside her.

"My dear," said Mrs. Hastings, "it's rather difficult to speak of, but
that little scene at the station must have hurt you."

Agatha looked at her quietly and searchingly, but there was only
sympathy in her face, and she leaned forward impulsively.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "it hurt me horribly, because I feel it was my
fault. I was the cause of it!"

"How could that be?"

"If I had only been kinder to Gregory he would, perhaps, never have
thought of that girl. I must have made it clear that he jarred upon me. I
drove him"--Agatha turned her face away, while her voice trembled--"into
that woman's arms. No doubt she was ready to make the most of the
opportunity."

Mrs. Hastings thought that the girl's scorn and disgust were perfectly
natural, even though, as it happened, they were not quite warranted.

"In the first place," she suggested, "I think you had better read this
note."

Agatha took the note, and there was light enough left to show that the
blood had crept into her face when she laid it down again. For almost a
minute she sat very still.

"It is a great relief to know that I was wrong--in one respect, but you
must not think I hated this girl because Gregory had preferred her to
me," she said at last. "When the first shock had passed, there was an
almost horrible satisfaction in feeling that he had released me--at any
cost. I suppose I shall always be ashamed of that."

She broke off a moment, and her voice was very steady when she went on
again:

"Still, what Sproatly