the machinery had worked smoothly under Fitzpatrick's
direction, and now the stroke had fallen. But though his own
suffering must be the more intense, Donald knew that the blow had
been aimed to glance from him full into the face of his father.
For the elder McTavish had no higher dream in this world than that
his only son should rise to honor and distinction in the traditional
family profession.

"If I am chief commissioner," he reasoned, "there is every opportunity
for my son to become governor, achieve a baronetcy, and found an
English line." This was the dream of his life, and he had intimated
as much to Donald on their last meeting, two years before.

It was the foundation of this dream that Fitzpatrick was now prepared
to sweep away. Already, the flood of rumor and ill repute was
tearing at the base of it. For a time, Donald forgot his own misery
in the realization of what it would all mean to his father. More
clearly, now, he saw the careful plans, the perfect details, the
inevitable conclusion.

"If only murder weren't against the law!" he muttered, twisting
his fingers together until they cracked.

And, then, there came to him the one possible solution to the whole
difficulty. He could sweep everything away by his own sacrifice.
Now, in fifteen minutes, he could still these evil voices by going
back to Fitzpatrick and accepting the old man's conditions, never
to communicate with Jean again and to be transferred to the far
West.

Never to communicate with Jean again! Never to touch her hand
or her hair! Never to hear her voice! To go on thus for a week,
for a month, for endless weeks and months and years--forever!
heaven! He could not do it! Had he no rights? Was he to be the
helpless manikin worked by every string of evil circumstance and
voice of ill?

Yet, what other way was there? He could not wantonly haul the figure
of his father down from its pedestal of blameless life. And his
mother and sister! Theirs would indeed be a frightful position.
No, there was no other way out.

What explanation of his desertion would ever be vouchsafed to Jean,
he did not know. He would try to communicate with her before he
went. It would be hard on her, this separation, particularly if
reasons could not be given. She would never understand. She would
go through life blaming him, perhaps, in the depths of her heart...
As for himself, his own future was the thing that concerned him
least. He would start again, he sup