"If he asked me, yes."

"You traitor! An' you a Webster!"

"I don't care."

The woman surveyed her niece in silence.

"Well," she said finally, "you can put your soul at rest. Martin Howe will
never marry you--never! He would no more marry anybody of the Webster
blood than he'd hang himself. Go on lovin' him if you want to. No good
will come of it."

With this parting prophecy Ellen shut her lips, and Lucy, throbbing from
the stripes of the encounter and seeing further parley fruitless, slipped
from the room and fled to the quiet of the still night's solitude.

After she had gone and Ellen was once more in bed, Melvina tried in vain
to quiet the increasing restlessness of her patient, but all attempts to
soothe the invalid were without avail. Tossing from side to side on the
pillows, her fingers picking nervously at the coverings, Ellen stared into
the darkness, breaking from time to time into fragments of angry
dialogue.

The benediction of the evening's peace, musical with the rustling of
leaves and laden with the perfume of blossoming vines, brought no solace
to her heart. Presently, unable to endure the silence longer, she started
up.

"Melviny," she called to the woman sitting beside her.

The nurse rose from the deepening gloom and stood erect in the moonlight,
her figure throwing upon the whitewashed wall a distorted, specterlike
silhouette.

"Yes, marm."

"Is Lucy still outdoors?"

"Yes."

Ellen waited an instant; then she said:

"There's somethin' in her room I want you should get for me."

"All right, Miss Webster."

"It's a long white envelope. You'll find it somewheres. It'll likely be in
her desk or the table drawer. It's sealed with red wax. You'll know it
when you come across it."

Although Melvina nodded, she did not move.

"You needn't be afraid to fetch it," explained Ellen querulously. "It's
mine. I gave it to Lucy to keep for me."

"I see."

Melvina started promptly on her quest.

"Don't be all night about it," was Ellen's parting admonition.

While the messenger was gone, the invalid gave vent to her impatience by
drumming rhythmically on the wooden edge of the bedstead, and this
measured tattoo increased in speed until it beat time with the feverish
bounding of her pulse and the throbbing of her heart.

"Ain't you found it yet?" she shouted at last.

"Yes, I've just come on it. It was under----"

"No matter where it was. Bring it here."

"I'm comin'."

Bear