guely, but even as she spoke, she
determined to leave next day.

"I thank you for all your kindness to me," said Keith, standing very
straight and speaking rather hoarsely.

Mrs. Yorke's heart smote her. If it were not for her daughter's welfare
she could have liked this boy and befriended him. A vision came to her
from out of the dim past; a country boy with broad shoulders suddenly
flashed before her; but she shut it off before it became clear. She
spoke kindly to Keith, and held out her hand to him with more real
sincerity than she had felt in a long time.

"You are a good boy," she said, "and I wish I could have answered you
otherwise, but it would have been simple madness. You will some day know
that it was kinder to you to make you look nakedly at facts."

"I suppose so," said Keith, politely. "But some day, Mrs. Yorke, you
shall hear of me. If you do not, remember I shall be dead."

With this bit of tragedy he turned and left her, and Mrs. Yorke stood
and watched him as he strode down the path, meaning, if he should turn,
to wave him a friendly adieu, and also watching lest that which she had
dreaded for a quarter of an hour might happen. It would be dreadful if
her daughter should meet him now. He did not turn, however, and when at
last he disappeared, Mrs. Yorke, with a sigh of relief, went up to her
room and began to write rapidly.

CHAPTER X

MRS. YORKE CUTS THE KNOT

When Alice Yorke came from her jaunt, she had on her face an expression
of pleasant anticipation. She had been talking to Dr. Balsam, and he had
said things about Gordon Keith that had made her cheeks tingle. "Of the
best blood of two continents," he had said of him. "He has the stuff
that has made England and America." The light of real romance was
beginning to envelop her.

As she entered the hall she met Mrs. Nailor. Mrs. Nailor smiled at her
knowingly, much as a cat, could she smile, might smile at a mouse.

"I think your mother is out on the far end of the verandah. I saw her
there a little while ago talking with your friend, the young
schoolmaster. What a nice young man he is? Quite uncommon, isn't he?"

Alice gave a little start. "The young schoolmaster" indeed!

"Yes, I suppose so. I don't know." She hated Mrs. Nailor with her quiet,
cat-like manner and inquisitive ways. She now hated her more than ever,
for she was conscious that she was blushing and that Mrs. Nailor
observed it.

"Your mother is very interested in s