"I have."

"Is it just or honorable to leave them longer to the charity of a woman
who is poor herself, and not even a relative?"

"It is neither."

"Have I, or have I not, assisted you, offered also to continue the
pension which makes them comfortable?"

"You have."

"Then," said the old woman, still with her eyes closed, "why persist in
this idiotic stubbornness? In offending me, are you not aware that you
are offending the only person on earth who can assist you? I make no
promises as to the future; but I am an old woman now, one to whom you
could at least be dutiful. There--I want no fine words. Show your
fineness by obeying my wishes."

"I will stay with _you_, grandaunt, willingly, gladly, gratefully, if
you will take me away from this place."

"No conditions," said Miss Vanhorn. "Come here; kneel down in front of
me, so that I can look at you. Will you stay with me _here_, if I yield
everything concerning Mr. Dexter?" She held her firmly, with her small
keen eyes searching her face.

Anne was silent. Like the panorama which is said to pass before the eyes
of the drowning man, the days and hours at Caryl's as they would be,
must be, unrolled themselves before her. But there only followed the
same desperate realization of the impossibility of remaining; the
misery, the jealousy; worse than all, the self-doubt. The misery, the
jealousy, she could perhaps bear, deep as they were. But what appalled
her was this new doubt of herself, this new knowledge, that, in spite of
all her determination, she might, if tried, yield to this love which had
taken possession of her unawares, yield to certain words which he might
speak, to certain tones of his voice, and thus become even more
faithless to Rast, to Helen, and to herself, than she already was. If he
would go away--but she knew that he would not. No, _she_ must go.
Consciousness came slowly back to her eyes, which had been meeting Miss
Vanhorn's blankly.

"I can not stay," she said.

Miss Vanhorn thrust her away violently. "I am well paid for having had
anything to do with Douglas blood," she cried, her voice trembling with
anger. "Get back into the wilderness from whence you came! I will never
hear your name on earth again." She left the room.

In a few moments Bessmer appeared, her eyes reddened by tears, and
announced that the wagon was waiting. It was at a side door. At this
hour there was no one on the piazzas, and Anne's trunk was carried down,
and