utside the school-house
she saw some one coming toward her, and in her distress of mind she
could not tell who it was. Her eyes were blinded with tears, her breath
was constricted, and it seemed to her that a demon unseen was gripping
her heart. She had not yet taken her bearings to know what she thought.
She had only just come dazed from the shock of Forsythe's words, and had
not the power to think. Over and over to herself, as she walked along,
she kept repeating the words: "I _do not_ believe it! It is _not_ true!"
but her inner consciousness had not had time to analyze her soul and be
sure that she believed the words wherewith she was comforting herself.

So now, when she saw some one coming, she felt the necessity of bringing
her telltale face to order and getting ready to answer whoever she was
to meet. As she drew nearer she became suddenly aware that it was Rosa
Rogers coming with her arms full of bundles and more piled up in front
of her on her pony. Margaret knew at once that Rosa must have seen
Forsythe go by her house, and had returned promptly to the school-house
on some pretext or other. It would not do to let her go there alone with
the young man; she must go back and stay with them. She could not be
sure that if she sent Rosa home with orders to rest she would be obeyed.
Doubtless the girl would take another way around and return to the
school again. There was nothing for it but to go back and stay as long
as Rosa did.

Margaret stooped and, hastily plucking a great armful of sage-brush,
turned around and retraced her steps, her heart like lead, her feet
suddenly grown heavy. How could she go back and hear them laugh and
chatter, answer their many silly, unnecessary questions, and stand it
all? How could she, with that great weight at her heart?

She went back with a wonderful self-control. Forsythe's face lighted,
and his reluctant hand grew suddenly eager as he worked. Rosa came
presently, and others, and the laughing chatter went on quite as
Margaret had known it would. And she--so great is the power of human
will under pressure--went calmly about and directed here and there;
planned and executed; put little, dainty, wholly unnecessary touches to
the stage; and never let any one know that her heart was being crushed
with the weight of a great, awful fear, and yet steadily upborne by the
rising of a great, deep trust. As she worked and smiled and ordered, she
was praying: "Oh, God, don't let it be tr