that became fond of me, thinking I was free, it hurt
me more--though perhaps it did _them_ no real harm. And then there was
Mrs. Mabyn--how can I explain to you about her?"

"I think I understand," Garth put in.

"She has been very kind to me all these years; but it was a kind of
tyrannical kindness, too--it was as if she was tying me to her with
one chain of kindness after another. And I wished to live my own life!
And it seemed to me that the only way in which I could discharge my
obligations to her, and win my freedom, was by doing this thing, which
she so ardently desires. She believes, you see, that I am the only one
who can save him."

Garth muttered something which sounded uncomplimentary to Mrs. Mabyn.

"But I am really fond of her," Natalie said quickly. "She has a mortal
disease," she added; "one must make allowances for that."

"Where is _he_?" Garth asked.

"His last letter, eight months ago, was post-marked Spirit River
Crossing," she said. "We gathered from it that he had a place somewhere
near there. We know very little. At first he wrote often and cheerfully;
he seemed to be getting on: but later, he moved about a great deal; his
letters came at longer intervals; and the tone of them changed. His
mother thinks his health has broken down. I am to find out; and to
save him, if I can."

There was a long silence here. Garth could not speak for the fear of
betraying an indignation which could only have hurt her; and Natalie
was busy with her own painful thoughts.

"There is something else," she resumed at last in a very low tone.
"I have not yet been quite frank with you--and I do so wish to be! You
must not think I am undertaking this purely on his mother's account;
for there is a selfish reason too. In the bottom of my heart there is
a hope--perhaps it is a wicked hope--but if you knew how this collar has
galled me!" She stopped; and then quickly resumed. "I married this man
with my eyes open; and I will do my part by him--but if--" her voice
fell again--"if it has not helped him; if in spite of my honest efforts
to save him, and all the letters I wrote, if he has fallen lower than
ever, and has ceased to struggle--then I will consider my part done!"

There seemed to be no more to say. Garth's heart was beating fast;
and he was longing to tell her that he understood, and that he loved
and admired her for what she had told him, but he could not tell her
coldly, and he would not tell her warmly. As