l and cheery though the letter was, it had struck dismay
to her heart; it was her way when sad, and longing for her husband, to
go up to her little cabin--her own home--and think it all over alone and
thus regain her equanimity.

Here she read and thought things out by herself. What strange people
they were over there! Or perhaps that was so long ago--they might have
changed by this time. Surely they must have changed, or David would have
said something about it. He never would become a lord, to be one of such
people--never--never! It was not at all like David.

A figure appeared in the doorway. "Cassandra! What are you doing here
all by yourself?"

It was Betty Towers. Cassandra ran joyfully forward and clasped the
little woman in her arms. Almost carrying her in, she sat her by the
pleasant open fire. Then, seeing Betty's eyes regarding her
questioningly, she suddenly dropped into her own chair by the table,
leaned her head upon her arms, and began to weep, silently.

In an instant Betty was kneeling by her side, holding the lovely head to
her breast. "Dearest! You shan't cry. You shan't cry like that. Tell me
all about it. Why on earth doesn't Doctor Thryng come home?"

Cassandra lifted her head and dried her tears. "He was coming. The last
letter but one said he was to sail next day. Then last night came
another saying the only man who could look after very important business
for him had been thrown from his horse and hurt so bad he may die, and
David had to give up his passage and go back to London. He may have to
go to Africa. He felt right bad--but--"

"Goodness me, child! Why, he has no business now more important than
you! What a chump!"

Cassandra stiffened proudly and drew away, taking up her shuttle and
beginning her work calmly as if nothing had happened to destroy her
composure.

"I've not written David--anything to disturb him--or make him hurry
home."

"Oh, Cassandra, Cassandra! You're not treating either him or yourself
fairly."

"For him--I can't help it; and for me, I don't care. Other women have
got along as best they could in these mountains, and I can bear what
they have borne."

"But why on earth haven't you told him?"

Cassandra bent her head lower over her bit of lace and was silent. Betty
drew her chair nearer and put her arms about the drooping girl.

"Can't you tell me all about it, dear?"

"Not if you are going to blame David."

"I won't, you lovely thing! I can't, since