credit."

The repressed anxiety with which Elisabeth had been regarding her
relaxed, and a curious look of content took birth in the hyacinth eyes.
It was as though the bitterness of Sara's answer in some way reassured
her, serving her purpose.

"Then can't you give Tim what he wants? You will be robbing no one.
Sara"--her low voice vibrated with the urgency of her desire--"promise
me at least that you will think it over--that you will not dismiss the
idea as though it were impossible?"

Sara half rose; her eyes, wide and questioning, were fixed upon
Elisabeth's.

"But why--why do you ask me this?" she faltered.

"Because I think"--very softly--"that Tim himself will ask you the same
thing before very long. And I can't face what it will mean to him if you
send him away. . . . You would be happy with him, Sara. No woman could
live with Tim and not grow to love him--certainly no woman whom Tim
loved."

The depth of her conviction imbued her words with a strange force of
suggestion. For the first time the idea of marriage with Tim presented
itself to Sara as a remotely conceivable happening.

Hitherto she had looked upon his love for her as something which only
touched the outer fringe of her life--a temporary disturbance of the
good-comradely relations that had existed between them. With the easy
optimism of a woman whose heart has always been her own exclusive
property she had hoped he would "get over it."

But now Elisabeth's appeal, and the knowledge of the pain of love, which
love itself had taught her, quickened her mind to a new understanding.
Perhaps Elisabeth felt her yield to the impression she had been
endeavoring to create, for she rose and came and stood quite close to
her, looking down at her with shining eyes.

"Give my son his happiness!" she said. And the eternal supplication of
all motherhood was in her voice.

Sara made no answer. She sat very still, with bent head. Presently there
came the sound of light footsteps as Elisabeth crossed the room, and, a
moment later, the door closed softly behind her.

She had thrust a new responsibility on Sara's shoulders--the
responsibility of Tim's happiness.

"Give my son his happiness!" The poignant appeal of the words rang in
Sara's ears.

After all, why not? As Elisabeth had said, she would be robbing no one
by so doing. The man for whom had been reserved the place in the sacred
inner temple of her heart had signified very clearly that he had