broke the silence, saying with an air of finality--

'You certainly made it plain you had no love left for me.'

'I had need of it all for the child.' Her voice had a curious crooning
note in it.

He came closer. He bent down to put the low question, 'Do you mean,
then, that after all--it lived?'

'No. I mean that it was sacrificed. But it showed me no barrier is so
impassable as the one a little child can raise.'

It was as if lightning had flashed across the old picture. He drew back
from the fierce illumination.

'Was _that_ why you----' he began, in a voice that was almost a whisper.
'Was that why?'

She nodded, speechless a moment for tears. 'Day and night there it was
between my thought of you and me.'

He sat down, staring at her.

'When I was most unhappy,' she went on, in that low voice, 'I would wake
thinking I heard it cry. It was my own crying I heard, but I seemed to
have it in my arms. I suppose I was mad. I used to lie there in that
lonely farmhouse pretending to hush it. It was so I hushed myself.'

'I never knew----'

'I didn't blame you. You couldn't risk being with me.'

'You agreed that, for both our sakes----'

'Yes, you had to be very circumspect. You were so well known. Your
autocratic father, your brilliant political future----'

'Be fair. Our future--as I saw it then.'

'Yes, everything hung on concealment. It must have looked quite simple
to you. You didn't know the ghost of a child that had never seen the
light, the frail thing you meant to sweep aside and forget'--she was on
her feet--'_have_ swept aside and forgotten!--you didn't know it was
strong enough to push you out of my life.' With an added intensity, 'It
can do more!' she said. She leaned over his bowed figure and whispered,
'It can push that girl out!' As again she stood erect, half to herself
she added, 'It can do more still.'

'Are you threatening me?' he said dully.

'No, I am preparing you.'

'For what?'

'For the work that must be done. Either with your help or that girl's.'

The man's eyes lifted a moment.

'One of two things,' she said--'either her life, and all she has, given
to this new Service; or a ransom if I give her up to you.'

'I see. A price. Well----?'

She looked searchingly at him for an instant, and then slowly shook her
head.

'Even if I could trust you to pay the price,' she said, 'I'm not sure
but what a young and ardent soul as faithful and as pure as hers--I'm
not sure but I