ste, we may repent at leisure."--_Congreve_.

It seemed to Anna when Friday came, that human experience had nothing
further to offer in the way of mental anguish and suspense. She had
thrashed out the question of her secret marriage to Sanderson till her
brain refused to work further, and there was in her mind only dread and
a haunting sense of loss. If she had only herself to consider, she
would not have hesitated a moment. But Sanderson, his father, and her
own mother were all involved.

Was she doing right by her mother? At times, the advantage to the
invalid accruing from this marriage seemed manifold. Again it seemed
to Anna but a senseless piece of folly, prompted by her own selfish
love for Sanderson. And so the days wore on until the eventful Friday
came, and Anna said good-bye to Mrs. Standish Tremont with livid cheeks
and tearful eyes.

"And do you feel so badly about going away, my dear?" said the great
lady, looking at those visible signs of distress and feeling not a
little flattered by her young cousin's show of affection. "We must
have you down soon again," and she patted Anna's cheek and hurried her
into the car, for Mrs. Tremont had a horror of scenes and signals
warned her that Anna was on the verge of tears.

The locomotive whistled, the cars gave a jolt, and Anna Moore was
launched on her tragic fate. She never knew how the time passed after
leaving Mrs. Tremont, till Sanderson joined her at the next station.
She felt as if her will power had deserted her, and she was dumbly
obeying the behests of some unseen relentless force. She looked at the
strange faces about her, hopelessly. Perhaps it was not too
late---perhaps some kind motherly woman would tell her if she were
doing right. But they all looked so strange and forbidding, and while
she turned the question over and over in her mind, the car stopped, the
brakeman called the station and Lennox Sanderson got on.

She turned to him in her utter perplexity, forgetting he was the cause
of it.

"My darling, how pale you are. Are you ill?"

"Not ill, but----" He would not let her finish, but reassured her by
the tenderest of looks, the warmest of hand clasps, and the terrified
girl began to lose the hunted feeling that she had.

They rode on for fully an hour. Sanderson was perfectly
self-possessed. He might have been married every day in the year, for
any difference it made in his demeanor. He was perfectly composed,
laughed