The first use I made of my liberty was to visit Adelaide's grave. In
that sacred place I could best review my past and gather strength for
the future. The future! Was it under my control? Did Arthur's fate hang
upon my word? I believed so. But had I strength to speak that word? I
had expected to; I had seen my duty clearly enough before the sitting of
the grand jury. But now that Arthur was indicted--now that it was an
accepted fact that he would have to stand trial instead of myself, I was
conscious of such a recoil from my contemplated action that I lost all
confidence in myself and my stoical adherence to what I considered the
claims of justice.

Standing in the cemetery grounds with my eyes upon the snow-covered mound
beneath which lay the doubly injured Adelaide, I had it out with myself,
for good and all.

I trusted Arthur; I distrusted Carmel. But she had claims to
consideration, which he lacked. She was a woman. Her fall would mean
infinitely more to her than any disgrace to him. Even he had seemed to
recognise this. Miserable and half-hearted as his life had been, he had
shown himself man enough not to implicate his young sister in the crime
laid to his charge. What then was I that I should presume to disregard
his lead in the difficult maze in which we were both lost. Yet, because
of the self-restraint he manifested, he had my sympathy and when I left
the cemetery and took my mournful way back into town, it was with the
secret resolution to stand his friend if I saw the case really going
against him. Till then, I would consider the helpless girl, tongue-tied
by her condition, and injured enough already by my misplaced love and its
direful consequences.

The only change I now allowed myself was an occasional midnight stroll up
Huested Street. This was as near as I dared approach Carmel's windows. I
feared some watchful police spy. Perhaps I feared my own
hardly-to-be-restrained longings.

Mr. Fulton's house and extensive grounds lay between this street and the
dismal walls beyond the huge sycamore which lifted itself like a beacon
above the Cumberland estate. But I allowed myself the doubtful pleasure
of traversing this course, and this course only, and if I obtained one
glimpse through bush and tree of the spot whither all my thoughts ran
continuously, I went home satisfied.

This was before Carmel left with her nurse for Lakewood. After that
event, I turned my head no more, in taking my midnight stroll