Apparently she could not. Tears were swimming
in her eyes. She looked at Electra in what might be reproach or a
despair at the futility of the fight she had to make. She returned to
Madam Fulton and stood before her.

"You didn't know," she said, in a low tone. "No one has told you!"

"Sit down," said the old lady kindly. "What is it?"

Rose stood before her, proudly now, her back turned upon Electra, as if
she repudiated one source of justice and appealed to another court.

"You called me Miss MacLeod," she said, in her full-throated voice. "I
was your grandson's wife."

"Tom's wife!" cried the old lady, in a sharp staccato. "Tom's wife! For
heaven's sake!"

Rose turned from her to Stark with an eloquent insistence. Electra,
outside the circle of the drama, stood ignored. But Madam Fulton called
to her,--

"Electra, do you hear?"

"I have heard it," answered Electra, with composure.

"You have heard it? Why didn't you tell me?"

But Electra made no reply. Madam Fulton gave way to her excitement. It
seemed to put new blood into her veins.

"Sit down here," she said imperiously, pushing forward a chair. Rose
sank upon it in a dignified obedience. "Now tell me,--how long were you
married?"

"Two years."

"Did Tom"--there were many things the old lady, knowing Tom, wished to
ask. But Tom was in his grave, and she contented herself with remarking,
"I certainly am petrified."

Stark gave a little smiling nod at them, and began making his way to the
door. It seemed to him emphatically that this was a family conclave.

"Billy," called the old lady, "did you ever hear of such a thing in your
life? Tom had a wife two years before he died, and not a word. Did you
ever dream of such a thing? Electra, I could trounce you for not telling
me." Then, as no one spoke, she asked sharply, "Does Peter know?"

"Yes, Madam Fulton," Rose returned. "He brought me here. Not quite that.
He assured me I might come."

"Come! of course you had to come. You belong here. Why aren't you
staying with us? Electra, haven't you seen to it?"

Electra was immovable, and the other girl turned to her a mute glance.
To Billy Stark it said many things. Reproach was in it, and a
challenging, almost a hard appeal. Rose looked like a gentle thing that
has been forced to fight. But she spoke to Madam Fulton.

"I must go," she said, with her exquisite deference. "I mustn't tire
you."

"Tire me! I'm never tired. Well, you must come again. Y