owned him, and he was
fooling with his gran'father's shot-gun when it went off and most blew
him to pieces. 'S a wonder he lived to grow up: he come so nigh breaking
his neck, before this."

Marise was surprised to hear Eugenia's voice again, "Marise, I stepped
back to ask you if there are any errands I could do for you, any
messages to take. I pass by the door of Mr. Welles' house. I could
perfectly easily stop there and tell Mr. Marsh he could see you now, for
instance."

Marise seemed to see her from afar. She heard what she said, but she was
aware of it only as an interruption. There was a question she must ask
old Mrs. Powers. How could she think of anything else till that had been
answered? She said to Eugenia at random, using the first phrase that
came into her mind, "No, no. Later. Some other time."

Eugenia hesitated, took a step away from the door, and then came back
in, deliberately, close to Marise. She spoke to her in Italian, very
clearly, "He is not a man who will wait."

To this Marise, wholly engrossed in her inner struggle, opposed a stupid
blankness, an incapacity to think of what Eugenia was saying, long
enough to understand it. In that dark inner room, where she kept the
door shut against the horror that was trying to come in, she dared not
for an instant look away. She merely shook her head and motioned
impatiently with her hand. Why did not Eugenia go away?

And yet when Eugenia had gone, she could not bring the words out because
of that strange contraction of her throat.

"My! but you ought to go and lie down," said Mrs. Powers
compassionately. "You're as white as a sheet. Why don't you just give up
for a while? Agnes and I'll tend to things."

Marise was filled with terror at the idea of not getting her answer, and
spoke quickly, abruptly. "Mrs. Powers, you never heard, did you, you
never thought, in that trouble about losing your wood-land . . . nobody
ever thought that Mr. Lowder was only an agent for someone else, whose
name wasn't to be known then."

"Oh sure," said Mrs. Powers readily. "'Gene found out from a man that
had lived in his town in New Hampshire that Lowder didn't do no
lumbering of his own. He just makes a business of dirty deals like that
for pay. He always surmised it to be some lumber-company; somebody that
runs a mill. Lots of men that run mills do that sort of thing, darn
'em!"

Marise leaned against the pantry shelf. The old woman glanced at her
face, gave a cr