failure in trust, whatever the consequences, she must
go. She couldn't go! Whatever the loss to herself, her place was here.
Emmy would not have gone to the theatre if she had not known that Jenny
would stay loyally there. It was too hard! The months, the long months
during which Keith had not written, were upon her mind like a weariness.
She had had no word from him, and the little photograph that he had
laughingly offered had been her only consolation. Yes, well, why hadn't
he written? Quickly her love urged his excuse. She might accuse him of
having forgotten her, but to herself she explained and pardoned all.
That was not for this moment. Keith was not in fault. It was this
dreadful difficulty of occasion, binding her here when her heart was
with him. To sit moping here by the fire when Keith called to her!
Duty--the word was a mockery. "They" would say she ought to stay. Hidden
voices throbbed the same message into her consciousness. But every eager
impulse, winged with love, bade her go. To whom was her heart given? To
Pa? Pity ... pity. ... She pitied him, helpless at home. If anything
happened to him! Nothing would happen. What could happen? Supposing she
had gone to the chandler's shop: in those few minutes all might happen
that could happen in all the hours she was away. Yet Emmy often ran out,
leaving Pa alone. He was in bed, asleep; he would not awaken, and would
continue to lie there at rest until morning. Supposing she had gone to
bed--she would still be in the house; but in no position to look after
Pa. He might die any night while they slept. It was only the idea of
leaving him, the superstitious idea that just _because_ she was not
there something would happen. Suppose she didn't go; but sat in the
kitchen for two hours and then went to bed. Would she ever forgive
herself for letting slip the chance of happiness that had come direct
from the clouds'? Never! But if she went, and something _did_ happen,
would she ever in that event know self-content again in all the days of
her life? Roughly she shouldered away her conscience, those throbbing
urgencies that told her to stay. She was to give up everything for a
fear? She was to let Keith go for ever? Jenny wrung her hands, drawing
sobbing breaths in her distress.

Something made her pick the letter swiftly up and read it through a
second time. So wild was the desire to go that she began to whimper,
kissing the letter again and again, holding it softly to he