Too late! Too late! And so he rose and walked
sorrowfully away.

When Mary Ballard came home from church, she found her little daughter
up in her room on her knees beside her bed, her arms stretched out
over the white counterpane, asleep. She had suffered until nature had
taken her into her own soothing arms and put her to sleep through
sheer weakness. Her cheeks were still burning and her eyelids red from
weeping. Mary thought her in a fever, and gently helped her to remove
the pretty muslin dress and got her to bed.

Betty drew a long sigh as her head sank back into the pillow. "My head
aches; don't worry, mother, dear." She thought her heart was closed
forever on her terrible secret.

"Mother'll bring you something for it, dear. You must have eaten
something at the picnic that didn't agree with you." She kissed
Betty's cheek, and at the door paused to look back on her, and a
strange misgiving smote her.

"I can't think what ails her," she said to Martha. "She seems to be
in a high fever. Did she sleep well last night?"

"Perfectly, but we talked a good while before we went to sleep.
Perhaps she got too tired yesterday. I thought she seemed excited,
too. Mrs. Walters always makes her coffee so strong."

Peter Junior came in to dinner, buoyant and happy. He was disappointed
not to see Betty, and frankly avowed it. He followed Mary into the
kitchen and begged to be allowed to go up and speak to Betty for only
a minute, but Mary thought sleep would be the best remedy and he would
better leave her alone. He had been to church with his father, and all
through the morning service as he sat at his father's side he had
meditated how he could persuade the Elder to look on his plans with
some degree of favor--enough at least to warrant him in going on with
them and trust to his father's coming around in time.

Neither he nor Richard were at the Elder's at dinner, and the meal
passed in silence, except for a word now and then in regard to the
sermon. Hester thought continually of her son and his hopes, but as
she glanced from time to time in her husband's face she realized that
silence on her part was still best. Whenever the Elder cleared his
throat and looked off out of the window, as was his wont when about to
speak of any matter of importance, her heart leaped and her eyes gazed
intently at her plate, to hide the emotion she could not restrain. Her
hands grew cold and her lips tremulous, but still she waited.

It w