n who had had the
temerity to refuse her beautiful Tim!

And now, although her letter contained no definite allusion to the
matter, reading between the lines, the conviction was borne in upon Sara
that Elisabeth knew all that there was to know, and had ranged herself,
heart and soul, on the side of her son.

It was obvious that she thought of the whole world in terms of Tim, and,
had she been a different type of woman, the simile of a hen with one
chick would have occurred to Sara's mind.

But there was nothing in the least hen-like about Elisabeth Durward.
Only, whenever Tim came near her, her face, with its strangely
inscrutable eyes, would irradiate with a sudden warmth and tenderness
of emotion that was akin to the exquisite rapture of a lover when
the beloved is near. To Sara, there seemed something a little
frightening--almost terrible--in her intense devotion to Tim.

The letter itself was charmingly written--expressing the hope that Sara
was happy and comfortable at Monkshaven, recalling their pleasant time
at Barrow together, and looking forward to other future visits from
her--"_which would be a fulfillment of happiness to us all_."

It was this last sentence, combined with one or two other phrases into
which much or little meaning might equally as easily be read, which had
aroused in Sara a certain uneasy instinct of apprehension. Dimly she
sensed a vague influence at work to strengthen the ties that bound her
to Barrow, and to all that Barrow signified.

She faced the question with characteristic frankness. Tim had his own
place in her heart--secure and unassailable. But it was not the place
in that sacred inner temple which is reserved for the one man, and she
recognized this with a limpid clearness of perception rather uncommon in
a girl of twenty. She also recognized that it was within the bounds of
possibility that the one man might never come to claim that place, and
that, if she gave Tim the answer he so ardently desired, they would
quite probably rub along together as well as most married folk--better,
perhaps, than a good many. But she was very sure that she never intended
to desecrate that inner temple by any lesser substitute for love.

Thus she reasoned, with the untried confidence of youth, which is so
pathetically certain of itself and of its ultimate power to hold to its
ideals, ignorant of the overpowering influences which may develop to
push a man or woman this way or that, or of the p