ll about it, daughter," she adjured; and when the tale was told,
she patted the bowed head tenderly and spoke the words of healing.

"You did altogether right, Ellie, dear; I--I am proud of you, daughter.
And if, as you say, you were the only one to do it, that doesn't matter;
it was all the more necessary. Are you sure he gave it up?"

Elinor rose and stood with clasped hands beside her mother's chair; a very
pitiful and stricken half-sister of the self-reliant, dependable young
woman who had boasted herself the head of the household.

"I have no means of knowing what he has done," she said slowly. "But I
know the man. He has turned back."

There was a tap at the door and a servant was come to say that Mr. Brookes
Ormsby was waiting with his auto-car. Was Miss Brentwood nearly ready?

Elinor said, "In a minute," and when the door closed, she made a
confidante of her mother for the first time since her childhood days.

"I know what you have suspected ever since that summer in New Hampshire,
and it is true," she confessed. "I do love him--as much as I dare to
without knowing whether he cares for me. Must I--may I--say yes to Brookes
Ormsby without telling him the whole truth?"

"Oh, my dear! You couldn't do that!" was the quick reply.

"You mean that I am not strong enough? But I am; and Mr. Ormsby is manly
enough and generous enough to meet me half-way. Is there any other honest
thing to do, mother?"

Mrs. Hepzibah shook her head deliberately and determinedly, though she
knew she was shaking the Ormsby millions into the abyss of the
unattainable.

"No; it is his just due. But I can't help being sorry for him, Ellie. What
will you do if he says it doesn't make any difference?"

The blue-gray eyes were downcast.

"I don't know. Having asked so much, and accepted so much from him--it
shall be as he says, mother."

The afternoon had been all that a summer afternoon on the brown highlands
can be, and the powerful touring car had swept them from mile to mile over
the dun hills like an earth-skimming dragon whose wing-beat was the
muffled, explosive thud of the motor.

Through most of the miles Elinor had given herself up to silent enjoyment
of the rapture of swift motion, and Ormsby had respected her mood, as he
always did. But when they were on the high hills beyond the mining-camp of
Megilp, and he had thrown the engines out of gear to brake the car gently
down the long inclines, there was room for speech.