head. "It won't change anything? Don't you see that
there's no hope for us?"

"When is she coming back?" he asked.

"I don't know. Mother wants father to come and take her out West for a
while."

"She's up there in the country with your mother yet?"

"Yes."

He was silent; then he said desperately--

"Penelope, she is very young; and perhaps--perhaps she might meet----"

"It would make no difference. It wouldn't change it for me."

"You are cruel--cruel to yourself, if you love me, and cruel to me.
Don't you remember that night--before I spoke--you were talking of that
book; and you said it was foolish and wicked to do as that girl did.
Why is it different with you, except that you give me nothing, and can
never give me anything when you take yourself away? If it were anybody
else, I am sure you would say----"

"But it isn't anybody else, and that makes it impossible. Sometimes I
think it might be if I would only say so to myself, and then all that I
said to her about you comes up----"

"I will wait. It can't always come up. I won't urge you any longer
now. But you will see it differently--more clearly. Good-bye--no!
Good night! I shall come again to-morrow. It will surely come right,
and, whatever happens, you have done no wrong. Try to keep that in
mind. I am so happy, in spite of all!"

He tried to take her hand, but she put it behind her. "No, no! I can't
let you--yet!"

XX.

AFTER a week Mrs. Lapham returned, leaving Irene alone at the old
homestead in Vermont. "She's comfortable there--as comfortable as she
can be anywheres, I guess," she said to her husband as they drove
together from the station, where he had met her in obedience to her
telegraphic summons. "She keeps herself busy helping about the house;
and she goes round amongst the hands in their houses. There's
sickness, and you know how helpful she is where there's sickness. She
don't complain any. I don't know as I've heard a word out of her mouth
since we left home; but I'm afraid it'll wear on her, Silas."

"You don't look over and above well yourself, Persis," said her husband
kindly.

"Oh, don't talk about me. What I want to know is whether you can't get
the time to run off with her somewhere. I wrote to you about Dubuque.
She'll work herself down, I'm afraid; and THEN I don't know as she'll
be over it. But if she could go off, and be amused--see new people----"

"I could MAKE the time," said Lapham, "if