back into her mind; it came to her with a little
flutter of pride that this child--she was really only a child, just
nineteen--who was to be married so soon, trusted to her worldly wisdom
in such matters, and came for advice.

"She hasn't any mother," Miss Lydia thought, sympathetically. "If you've
quarreled, you and he," she said, putting her little roughened hand on
Mary's soft, shaking fist, "tell him you're sorry. Kiss and make up!"
Then she remembered why she and her William had not kissed and made up.
"Unless"--she hesitated--"he has done something that isn't nice?"
("Nice" was Miss Lydia's idea of perfection.) "But I'm sure he hasn't!
He seemed to me, when I saw him, a very pleasing young man. So kiss and
make up!"

The younger woman was not listening. "I had to wait all day to come and
speak to you. I've been frantic--_frantic_--waiting! But I couldn't have
anybody see me come. They would have wondered. If you don't help me--"

"But I will, Mary, I will! Don't you love him?"

"_Love_ him?" said the girl. "My God!" Then, in a whisper, "If I only
hadn't loved him--_so much_. . . . I am going to have a baby."

It seemed as if Miss Lydia's little friendly chirpings were blown from
her lips in the gust of these appalling words.

Mary herself was suddenly composed. "They sent him off to Mexico at
twenty-four hours' notice; it was cruel--cruel, to send him away! and he
came to say good-by-- And. . . . And then I begged and begged father to
let us get married; even the very morning that he went away, I said:
'Let us get married to-day. Please, father, _please_!' And he wouldn't,
he wouldn't! He wanted a big wedding. Oh, what did I care about a big
wedding! Still--I never supposed-- But I went to Mercer yesterday and
saw a doctor, and--and found out. I couldn't believe it was true. I said
I'd die if it was true! And he said it was. . . . So then I rushed to
Carl's office. . . . He was frightened--for me. And then we thought of
you. And all day to-day I've just walked the floor--waiting to get down
here to see you. I couldn't come until it was dark. Father thinks I'm
in bed with a headache. I told the servants to tell him I had a
headache. . . . We've got to manage somehow to make him let us get
married right off. But--but even that won't save me. It will be known.
It will be known--in January."

Miss Lydia was speechless.

"So you've got to help me. There's nobody else on earth who can. Oh, you
must--you must!"