Field, who
followed her to the door.

"I was thinkin' about that old glass preserve-dish," she whispered.
"I don't s'pose it's worth much, but if you don't use it ever, I
s'pose I might as well have it. Flora has considerable company now,
an' ours ain't a very good size."

When Mrs. Maxwell had gone out of the yard with the heavy cut-glass
dish pressed firmly against her side under her black silk shawl, Jane
Field felt like one who had had a reprieve from instant execution,
although she had already suffered the slow torture. She went back to
her guests as steady-faced as ever. She was quite sure none of them
had noticed Mrs. Maxwell's calling her Esther, but her eyes were like
a wary animal's as she entered the room, although not a line in her
long pale face was unsteady.

The time went on and nobody said, "Why did she call you Esther
instead of Jane?"

They seemed as usual. Mrs. Babcock questioned her sharply about Mrs.
Maxwell--how much property she had and if her daughter had married
well. Amanda never looked in her face, and said nothing, but she was
often quiet and engrossed in a new tidy she was knitting.

"They don't suspect," Mrs. Field said to herself.

They were going home the next day but one; she went to bed nearly as
secure as she had been for the last three months. Mrs. Maxwell was to
be busy the next day--she had spoken of making pear sauce--she would
not be in again. The danger of exposure from the coming of these
three women to Elliot was probably past. But Jane Field lay awake all
night. Suddenly at dawn she formed a plan; her mind was settled.
There was seemingly no struggle. It was to her as if she turned a
corner, once turned there was no other way, and no question about it.
When it was time, she got up, dressed herself, and went about the
house, as usual. There was no difference in her look or manner, but
all the morning Lois kept glancing at her in a startled,
half-involuntary way; then she would look away again, seeing nothing
to warrant it, but ere long her eyes turned again toward her mother's
face. It was as if she had a subtle consciousness of something there
which was beyond vision, and to which her vision gave the lie. When
she looked away she saw it again, but it vanished when her eyes were
turned, like a black robe through a door.

After dinner, when the dishes were cleared away, the three visitors
sat as usual in company state with their needle-work. Amanda's bag
upstairs was a