h the
people who want one and not with the people who don't. Aunt wanted me
and I failed her. Uncle wanted me and I--I--I--"

She broke down, crying, her head in her arms. He went over to her and
put his arms around her. At his touch she shrank a little, and when he
felt that he went away from her and stood, silently, not knowing what
to do.

"Maggie, don't--don't, Maggie. I can't bear to hear you cry."

"I've done all wrong--I've done all wrong," she answered him. "I've
been wrong always."

His helplessness was intolerable. He knew that she would not allow him
to touch her. He went out closing the door softly behind him.

CHAPTER X

THE REVIVAL

Maggie cried for a little while, then, slowly recovering, realised that
she was alone in the room. She raised her head and listened; then she
dried her eyes and stood up, wondering what she should do next.

During the last week she had spent all her energy on one thing
alone--to keep back from her the picture of Uncle Mathew's death. That
at all costs she must not see. There it was, just behind her, hovering
with all its detail, at her elbow. All day and most of the night she
was conscious of it there, but she would not turn and look. Uncle
Mathew was dead--that was all that she must know. Aunt Anne was dead
too. Martin had written to her, and then, because she had not answered,
had abandoned her. Paul and Grace were to be driven out of Skeaton
because of her. Grace hated her; Paul would never love her unless she
in return would love him--and that she would never do because she loved
Martin. She was alone then.

She had made every one unhappy--Aunt Anne, Uncle Mathew, Paul, Grace;
the best thing that she could do now was to go away and hide herself
somewhere.

That, at least, she saw very clearly and she clung to it. If she went
away Paul and Grace need not leave Skeaton; soon they would forget her
and be happy once more as they had been before she came. But where
should she go? All her life she had depended upon her own
self-reliance, but now that had left her. She felt as though she could
not move unless there was some one somewhere who cared for her. But
there was no one. Katherine Mark. No, she certainly could never go
there again. Behind all this was the constant preoccupation that she
must not look, for an instant, at Uncle Mathew's death. If she did
everything would break ... She must not. She must not. She must not.

She went up to her bedroom, to