it now because she felt that she must do
something to occupy her mind, and because she wished to be alone.
Up there at the For'ard Lookout she could combine the two--work and
seclusion.

When Mr. Keith told, at the store that morning, the news of Edwin
Smith's--or Edgar Farmer's--death she had been dreadfully shaken by it.
It was so sudden, so unexpected--when she last heard the man was, so the
doctors said, almost well. She had thought of him often enough during
the past year; or, rather, she had thought of Crawford as being with
him and of the father's joy in his son's return to him and the knowledge
that his own disgraceful secret would not be revealed. And she had
pictured Crawford as finding solace for his disappointed love in his
father's society. That Edgar Farmer had been what Isaiah called him--a
blackguard--she realized perfectly, but she was equally sure that, as
Edwin Smith, he had been the kindest and most loving of fathers. And
Crawford, although he had been willing to leave him because of her,
loved him dearly.

And now he was dead, and Crawford was left alone. Somehow she felt
responsible for the death. That it had been hastened by the terrible
alarm and stress of the previous year was, of course, certain. She
thought of Crawford alone and with this new sorrow, and this thought,
and that of her responsibility, was almost more than she could bear.

She felt that she must write him, that he must know she had heard and
was thinking of him. So, after leaving the store, she had hastened down
to the house and up the back stairs to her room. There she had written a
few lines, not more than a note, but the composing of that note had been
a difficult task. There was so much she longed to say and so little
she could say. When it was written she remembered that Crawford was
in Boston and she did not know his address. She determined to send the
letter to the Nevada home and trust to its being forwarded.

She took from the back of the drawer the box of photographs and looked
them over. As she was doing so Isaiah called her to dinner. Then she
heard her uncles come in and, because she felt that she could talk
with no one just then, she avoided them by hastily going down the front
stairs. She made a pretense of eating and left the house. Isaiah did not
see her go. After stopping at the store long enough to tell Mr. Crocker
she would be at the tea-room that afternoon, she climbed the hill,
unlocked the door of the