a terrible purpose.

"Do not look at me, do not notice me!" she cried, but in a voice so
hoarse no one but Mr. Gryce could fully understand her. "I am for no
one's eyes but God's. Pray that he may have mercy upon me." Then as she
saw us all instinctively fall back, she controlled herself, and,
pointing toward Mother Jane's cottage, said more distinctly: "As for
those men, let them dig. Let them dig the whole day long. Secrecy must
be kept, a secrecy so absolute that not even the birds of the air must
see that our thoughts range beyond the forty rods surrounding Mother
Jane's cottage."

She turned and would have fled away for the second time, but Mr. Gryce
stopped her. "You have set yourself a task beyond your strength. Can you
perform it?"

"I can perform it," she said. "If Loreen does not talk, and I am allowed
to spend the day in solitude."

I had never seen Mr. Gryce so agitated--no, not when he left Olive
Randolph's bedside after an hour of vain pleading. "But to wait all day!
Is it necessary for you to wait all day?"

"It is necessary." She spoke like an automaton. "To-night at twilight,
when the sun is setting, meet me at the great tree just where the road
turns. Not a minute sooner, not an hour later. I will be calmer then."
And waiting now for nothing, not for a word from Loreen nor a detaining
touch from Mr. Gryce, she flew away for the second time. This time
Loreen followed her.

"Well, that is the hardest thing I ever had to do," said Mr. Gryce,
wiping his forehead and speaking in a tone of real grief and anxiety.
"Do you think her delicate frame can stand it? Will she survive this day
and carry through whatever it is she has set herself to accomplish?"

"She has no organic disease," said I, "but she loved that young man very
much, and the day will be a terrible one to her."

Mr. Gryce sighed.

"I wish I had not been obliged to resort to such means," said he, "but
women like that only work under excitement, and she does know the secret
of this affair."

"Do you mean," I demanded, almost aghast, "that you have deceived her
with a false telegram; that that slip of paper you hold----"

"Read it," he cried, holding it out toward me.

I did read it. Alas, there was no deception in it. It read as he said.

"However--" I began.

But he had pocketed the telegram and was several steps away before I had
finished my sentence.

"I am going to start these men up," said he. "You will breathe no word
to