long action. She had
told Mrs. Jarvis the whole truth, offending her bitterly thereby, and
had escaped without even a word of farewell to Mr. Huntley. But now,
in the telling of it all, she seemed to see herself each moment growing
more culpable and ridiculous in her aunt's eyes.

And when she finished her story with an appeal, she was met by that
old, old sentence that had been so many times pronounced upon her:

"I cannot understand you."

Elizabeth did not quite understand herself. She knew only that an
inner voice--an echo from the thrilling words spoken in the church--had
commanded and she could not but obey. The King's Highway was calling
for her--she was needed to make it smooth for someone's feet. That
voice had promised great things, too,--that the wilderness and the
solitary places should be glad because of her coming, that the rose of
Sharon should blossom by her side--that, because of her, some little of
the sorrow and sighing of this sad world should flee away. And now,
instead, there were thorns along the pathway, and she had brought
distress upon one she loved.

If she could only explain, she said to herself in despair. She looked
out of the west window away down Champlain's Road with its swaying,
towering hedge of bejeweled elms, to the old farm-house against the
pines of Long Hill. Mother MacAllister would understand without any
explanation. If she were only telling Mother MacAllister!

"It seems so unnecessary, your leaving Mrs. Jarvis," Miss Gordon
continued. "Someone else could have brought Eppie. And what we are to
do with her I cannot tell. You cannot but see that she is consumptive,
and it would be folly for us to allow her to be in the same home with
Mary. Even you must understand that Mary is in danger of that disease,
Elizabeth."

The girl's face blanched. "I will take complete care of her, aunt,"
she said hastily. "Mary need not go near her. But both Mr. Bagsley
and Mrs. Jarvis's doctor said Eppie would soon get better with fresh
air and good nursing."

"One never can tell with a disease like that. And as for good
nursing--I see clearly that as usual the burden must fall upon me."
Miss Gordon sighed deeply and hunted in her basket for her spool. "It
is quite out of the question for you to undertake nursing her. I could
not allow it in any case, but it would be unfair to Mrs. Jarvis. She
must expect your return any day?" She looked up inquiringly, and
Elizabeth's c