way of doing her household tasks, without incessantly
looking after her heart, or making inquiry of her feelings.

True, her ear and heart were on the watch for the sound of one step,
and one voice; and she would have been most happy if that ache of
listening had been answered. But the morning passed, and Harry neither
came nor yet sent any message. She dared not hope that the afternoon
would be more fortunate, and yet surely, surely, he would not leave
her without any attempt to make the future possible. Soon after dinner
her anxieties were complicated by a message from Mrs. Wyk, an infirm
lady who was related to Yanna by her mother's side, and to whom Yanna
was accustomed to render many services. Mrs. Wyk sent a messenger to
say that "she had a new novel, and she wanted Yanna to come and read
it to her."

Yanna was much disturbed by the decision she was now compelled to
make. If she went to Mrs. Wyk's Harry might call while she was from
home, and then he would be certain her absence was premeditated. Yet
if she did not go to Mrs. Wyk's, she would neglect an evident duty for
an uncertain personal pleasure; and then, if Harry did not come, she
would have disappointed her relative, she would "be out" with herself,
and yet have done nothing towards being reconciled to her lover. The
child who brought the message stood looking at her impatiently. It was
near the school hour, and the answer was to be taken back, and Yanna
was one of those women who hate to be hurried.

She could not decide with that restless boy looking into her eyes and
standing on tiptoes to be gone. She said, "Wait a moment, Willie," and
she ran into the parlor, shut the door, and stood silently in the
darkened room to consider. Her hands hung clasped before her, her eyes
were cast down, and in a painful suspense of self-seeking, she asked
her heart, "What shall I do? What shall I do?" Thus she waited;
wistful, intent, sorrowful, until the answer came. It came from her
own conscience:

"_One can always do right!_"

"True!" She accepted the response immediately. "One can always do
right! That settles the most difficult question. And it is right to
put the pleasure of the sick and aged before my own pleasure. I will
go and read to Aunt Wyk."

She thought it no violation of duty, however, to hurry her departure,
and thus be able to get the reading finished by three o'clock. Then
she began to put on her hat and cloak, and Mrs. Wyk said: "What are
yo