y, it had swept upon the two women,
destroying all the falsities that had hitherto made any thought of
separation impossible. As Sue fingered the check, she realized that
her life and her mother's had been changed. It was likely that they
might go on living together. Though they were two women who belonged
apart.

"Why, Miss Susan,"--Farvel had come across the lawn to her
noiselessly--"what's this I hear? That you're going away."

She rose, a little flurried. "I--I suppose I must."

"And you've bought all these for--for the child," he added, catching
sight of the dolls and toys.

"It'll be nice to give them to her. But I'd hoped I could be near
Barbara for a long time to come. I hoped I could help to make up to
the little one for--for anything she's lacked." She shook her head.
"But you see, my mother depends on me so. She wouldn't go without me.
She's too old to go just with Mrs. Balcome. And--and if it's my
duty----" At her feet was that box which Mrs. Balcome had thrown down
on hearing that it contained something which should be put upon ice.
Sue picked the box up and began to undo the string.

Farvel stood in silence for a little. Then, finally, "I--I want to
tell you something before you go. I'm afraid it will surprise you.
And--and"--coloring bashfully--"I hardly know how to begin."

"Ye-e-es?" Sue was embarrassed, too, and hid her confusion by taking
from the box a bride's bouquet that was destined not to figure in any
marriage ceremony. At sight of the flowers, her embarrassment grew.

Farvel began to speak very low.--"After Laura left, I didn't think of a
second marriage--not even when her brother had the divorce registered.
I felt I couldn't settle down again and be happy when I didn't know her
fate. She might be alive, you see. And I am an Episcopal clergyman.
Still--I wasn't contented. I had my dreams--of a home, and a wife----"
He paused.

"A wife who would really care," she said.

"Yes. And a woman _I_ could love. Because, I know I'm to blame for
Laura's going--oh, yes, to a very great extent. I didn't love her
enough. If I had, she never would have left--never would have done
anything to hurt me. If I were to marry again, it would have to be
someone I cared for a great deal. That's what I--I want to plead now
when I tell you--when I confess. I want to plead that this new love I
feel is so great--almost beyond my--my power, Miss Susan."

She did not look at him. The bo