ut like you, I would not believe them till I had investigated
them fully. Ask her if she has not been the mother of an illegitimate
child, who is now buried in the Episcopal cemetery at Belden--ask her
if she was not known there under the name of Mrs. Lennox?"

"It is true," said the girl, raising her head, "that I was known as
Mrs. Lennox. It is true that I have a child buried in Belden----"

David's arm fell from her, he buried his face in his hands and groaned.
Anna opened the door, a whirling gust flared the lamps and drove a
skurrying cloud of snowflakes within, yet not one hand was raised to
detain her. She swayed uncertain for a moment on the threshold, then
turned to them: "You have hunted me down, you have found out that I
have been a mother, that I am without the protection of a husband's
name, and that was enough for you--your duty stopped at the scandal.
Why did you not find out that I was a young, inexperienced girl who was
betrayed by a mock marriage--that I thought myself an honorable
wife--why should your duty stop in hunting down a defenseless girl
while the man who ruined her life sits there, a welcome guest in your
house to-night?"

She was gone--David, who had been stunned by his father's words, ran
after her, but the whirling flakes had hidden every trace of her, and
the howling wind drove back his cry of "Anna, Anna! come back!"

Anna did not feel the cold after closing the door between her and the
Squire's family; the white flame of her wrath seemed to burn up the
blood in her veins, as she plunged through the snowdrifts, unconscious
of the cold and storm. She had no words in which to formulate her fury
at the indignity of her treatment. Her native sweetness, for the
moment, had been extinguished and she was but the incarnation of
wronged womanhood, crying aloud to high Heaven for justice.

The blood throbbed at her brain and the quickened circulation warmed
her till she loosened the cloak at her throat and wondered, in a dazed
sort of way, why she had put it on on such a stifling night. Then she
remembered the snow and eagerly uplifted her flushed cheeks that the
falling flakes might cool them.

But of the icy grip of the storm she was wholly unconscious. There was
a mad exhilaration in facing the wild elements on such a night, the
exertion of forcing through the storm chimed in with her mood; each
snowdrift through which she fought her way was so much cruel injustice
beaten down. S