arms with a force that was alarming.
It was easy to see that Susan was most temperamental and would be a
handful of anxieties in the years to come, anxieties that Harriet
needed.

"Of course, she doesn't belong to me and I'm a fool," Harriet muttered
as Susan darted away to see what treasure for her lurked in the pocket
of Mrs. Sproul's beflowered silk skirt.

"I started plans to get her for you, just five minutes ago, dear," I
said, as I sat down beside her. "I laid down the law to Billy on the
subject."

"Charlotte," answered Harriet, as she looked with brooding into my eyes,
"do you really believe that--that we will find them again and--and--_do_
you really believe?" And the question was so hungry and haunted and so
like what had driven me for years that my heart ached in my breast for
her, but I knew that I could only stand fast and pray that she be
comforted. I couldn't make her see.

"Yes, dear, I _know_--but I can't make you know. Just go on--on
_hungering_ like you are and you'll be fed," I answered.

"You've always understood, Charlotte, and if you say that the pain will
some day be eased I'll--I'll believe it. Yes, I'll make a start by
believing in you and there's no telling where it will land me."

The confidence with which she raised her comforted eyes to mine made a
stab of pain hit me full in the breast. Words that Gregory Goodloe had
spoken to me out under the old graybeards were the weapon used. "With
your hand in mine I can make this whole community see and know;
separated from you--" In all humility I now understood what he meant.

And in all the weeks in which he and I had worked together Gregory
Goodloe had given me not one single personal word or look. The priest
had comforted and strengthened me but the man had forever shut me out of
his heart. My suffering was intense, and yet, and yet I knew that in my
heart there was strength to endure the want of him with all
cheerfulness even to the end. At last I had found the key to my own
hieroglyphics and I could be honest with myself. I knew that I loved
Gregory Goodloe as it is seldom given to a woman to love a man, but I
also knew that the awakening of spirit I had found was not in any way
connected with my woman's love for him, but had come to me from the
years of suffering I had had while I sought it. I refused to acknowledge
that a sex spark had in any way set off the blaze; the fire had been
laid in my soul and it would burn on without any