enied her. Had she been a man, it would have been so easy. She could
have offered to be his servant; could have done those things which she
could do better than any, since hers would be a heart-service.

But even as she looked at him now, she had a flash of insight and
prescience. She had, from little things said or done, from newspapers
marked and a hundred small indications, made up her mind that her
mistress's mind dwelt much upon "the Egyptian." The thought flashed now
that she might serve this man, after all; that a day might come when she
could say that she had played a part in his happiness, in return for
all he had done for her. Life had its chances--and strange things had
happened. In her own mind she had decided that her mistress was not
happy, and who could tell what might happen? Men did not live for ever!
The thought came and went, but it left behind a determination to answer
David as she felt.

"I will not marry Jasper," she answered slowly. "I want work, not
marriage."

"There would be both," he urged.

"With women there is the one or the other, not both."

"Thee could help him. He has done credit to himself, and he can do good
work for England. Thee can help him."

"I want work alone, not marriage, sir."

"He would pay thee his debt."

"He owes me nothing. What happened was no fault of his, but of the life
we were born in. He tired of me, and left me. Husbands tire of their
wives, but stay on and beat them."

"He drove thee mad almost, I remember."

"Wives go mad and are never cured, so many of them. I've seen them die,
poor things, and leave the little ones behind. I had the luck wi' me. I
took the right turning at the cross-roads yonder."

"Thee must be Jasper's wife if he asks thee again," he urged.

"He will come when I call, but I will not call," she answered.

"But still thee will marry him when the heart is ready," he persisted.
"It shall be ready soon. He needs thee. Good-bye, friend. Leave Soolsby
alone. He will be safe. And do not tell him that I have seen him so." He
stooped over and touched the old man's shoulder gently.

He held out his hand to her. She took it, then suddenly leaned over and
kissed it. She could not speak.

He stepped to the door and looked out. Behind the Red Mansion the sun
was setting, and the far garden looked cool and sweet. He gave a happy
sigh, and stepped out and down.

As he disappeared, the woman dropped into a chair, her arms upon a
table. Her