g against tears.

"I did not know," Barbara breathed her contrition. "I never
dreamed----"

"No one ever does," faltered Miss Sarah. "I--I am an old, faded,
hopelessly unmarried woman to you, my dear--oh, child, you need not
protest a kinder opinion! I am just 'Caleb Hunter's spinster sister'
to the people of this village. But to--to myself, Barbara, I am at
times the same girl who waited, roses in her hair and roses in her
cheeks, for him to come, so that I might tell him that I was his, body
and soul. And he never came! Oh, my dear, I do not mean to break down
like this, for you have your own heart-ache. But I trusted to reason.
I told myself that to-morrow would be soon enough. And when to-morrow
came--they let me--go to him. He died very bravely, Barbara, to save
the life of another.

"Since you are so sure, I can tell you this without seeming to warn
you--without being accused of attempting to influence you. But now you
know why I say that every woman, if heedlessness for which she is
perhaps not to blame will not let her consider the happiness of the man
she loves, should still take care that she does not barter for an hour
of quickened pulses the happiness of her whole life. I was innocent
enough. It was harmless play to me. But I have paid--and paid--and
paid! I would not have you, whom I cherish, rise each morning and
wonder why you had to be the only one to suffer out of thousands who
played the same way. And now will you please forgive me this
uncontrolled moment? I usually inflict them upon no one; I hide them
in my room. But, Barbara, I was so proud of him--so sure--so positive
that he was the only man in the world! And I lost my chance to tell
him how much I cared."

The riding-crop lay neglected on the floor. It had slipped and
clattered down while Barbara sat and stared at the tiny woman who was
dabbing at her eyes with a very girlish square of linen. And then
slowly Barbara rose and took an uncertain step or two. She sank to her
knees and pillowed her head upon Miss Sarah's lap. Momentarily she had
forgotten the struggle which was going on in her own heart. Now even
pity for the other could not keep her from turning hack to it.

"But I do not know," she gasped. "I--sometimes I think I must care,
and then I am afraid----" She lifted a face dry-eyed and tense. "I
ought to be proud of him, too. If I loved him I would be, wouldn't I?
If I cared I wouldn't ask anything more t