r.

The priest had sent to her also one of the pictures of Tita. One day,
after his return, he asked for it. She answered that it was gone.

"Where?"

"Into the fire."

"She cannot forgive," he thought, glancing cautiously at the set face
opposite.

But it was not Tita whom she could not forgive; it was the young mother,
dead long years before.

The winter moved on. Anne had taken off her engagement ring, and now
wore in its place a ring given by her school-girl adorers, who had
requested permission in a formal note to present one to their goddess.
As she had refused gems, they had selected the most costly plain gold
circlet they could find in Weston, spending a long and happy Saturday in
the quest. "But it is a wedding ring," said the jeweller.

But why should brides have all the heavy gold? the school-girls wished
to know. Other persons could wear plain gold rings also if they pleased.

So they bought the circlet and presented it to Anne with beating hearts
and cheeks flushed with pleasure, humbly requesting in return, for each
a lock of her hair. Then ensued a second purchase of lockets for this
hair: it was well that their extravagant little purses were well filled.

To the school-girls the ring meant one thing, to Anne another; she
mentally made it a token of the life she intended to lead. Free herself,
he was not free; Helen loved him. Probably, also, he had already
forgotten his fancy for the lonely girl whom he had seen during those
few weeks at Caryl's. She would live her life out as faithfully as she
could, thankful above all things for her freedom. Surely strength would
be given her to do this. The ring was like the marriage ring of a nun,
the token of a vow of patience and humility. During all these long
months she had known no more, heard no more, of her companions of that
summer than as though they had never existed. The newspapers of Weston
and the country at large were not concerned about the opinions and
movements of the unimportant little circle left behind at Caryl's. Their
columns had contained burning words; but they were words relating to the
great questions which were agitating the land from the Penobscot to the
Rio Grande. Once, in a stray number of the _Home Journal_, she found the
following paragraph: "Miss Katharine Vanhorn is in Italy at present. It
is understood that Miss Vanhorn contemplates an extended tour, and will
not return to this country for several years. Her Hudson River