d you and I will have to go and begin life over
again...somewhere else."

For an instant a mad hope swelled in her--the vision of escaping with
him into new scenes, a new life, away from the coil of memories that
bound them down as in a net. But the reaction of reason came at
once--she saw him cut off from his chosen work, his career destroyed,
his honour clouded, above all--ah, this was what wrung them both!--his
task undone, his people flung back into the depths from which he had
lifted them. And all through her doing--all because she had clutched at
happiness with too rash a hand! The thought stung her to passionate
activity of mind--made her resolve to risk anything, dare anything,
before she involved him farther in her own ruin. She felt her brain
clear gradually, and the thickness dissolve in her throat.

"I understand," she said in a low voice, raising her eyes to his.

"And you're ready to accept the consequences? Think again before it's
too late."

She paused. "That is what I should like...what I wanted to ask you...the
time to think."

She saw a slight shade cross his face, as if he had not expected this
failure of courage in her; but he said quietly: "You don't want me to go
today?"

"Not today--give me one more day."

"Very well."

She laid a timid hand on his arm. "Please go out to Westmore as
usual--as if nothing had happened. And tonight...when you come back...I
shall have decided."

"Very well," he repeated.

"You'll be gone all day?"

He glanced at his watch. "Yes--I had meant to be; unless----"

"No; I would rather be alone. Good-bye," she said, letting her hand slip
softly along his coat-sleeve as he turned to the door.

XXXVIII

AT half-past six that afternoon, just as Amherst, on his return from the
mills, put the key into his door at Hanaford, Mrs. Ansell, in New York,
was being shown into Mr. Langhope's library.

As she entered, her friend rose from his chair by the fire, and turned
on her a face so disordered by emotion that she stopped short with an
exclamation of alarm.

"Henry--what has happened? Why did you send for me?"

"Because I couldn't go to you. I couldn't trust myself in the
streets--in the light of day."

"But why? What is it?--Not Cicely----?"

He struck both hands upward with a comprehensive gesture.
"Cicely--everyone--the whole world!" His clenched fist came down on the
table against which he was leaning. "Maria, my girl might have been
saved!"