indeed.

CHAPTER XXVIII. A WOMAN WRITES A LETTER

The whole country rang with the defeat and death of Barode Barouche,
and the triumph of the disinherited son of John Grier. Newspapers drew
differing lessons from the event, but all admitted that Carnac, as a
great fighter, was entitled to success. The Press were friendly to the
memory of Barode Barouche, and some unduly praised his work, and only a
few disparaged his career.

When news of the tragedy came to Mrs. Grier, she was reading in the
papers of Carnac's victory, and in her mind was an agonizing triumph,
pride in a stern blow struck for punishment. The event was like none she
could have imagined.

It was at this moment the note came from Carnac telling of Barouche's
death, and it dropped from her hand to the floor. The horror of it smote
her being, and, like one struck by lightning, she sank to the floor
unconscious. The thing had hit her where soul and body were closely
knit; and she had realized for the first time how we all must pay to
the last penny for every offence we commit against the laws of life
and nature. Barode Barouche had paid and she must pay--she also who had
sinned with him must pay. But had she not paid?

For long she lay unconscious, but at last the servant, unknowing why she
was not called to remove the breakfast things, found her huddled on the
floor, her face like that of death. The servant felt her heart, saw she
was alive, and worked with her till consciousness came back.

"That's right, ma'am, keep up heart. I'll send for M'sieu' Carnac at
once, and we'll have you all right pretty quick."

But Mrs. Grier forbade Carnac to be sent for, and presently in her bed,
declined to have the doctor brought. "It's no use," she said. "A doctor
can do no good. I need rest, that's all."

Then she asked for notepaper and pen and ink, and so she was left alone.
She must tell her beloved son why it was there never had been, and never
could be, understanding between John Grier and himself. She had arrived
at that point where naught was to be gained by further concealment.
So through long hours she struggled with her problem, and she was glad
Carnac did not come during the vexing day. He had said when he sent her
word of his victory, that he feared he would not be able to see her the
next day at all, as he had so much to do. She even declined to see Junia
when she came, sending word that she was in bed, indisposed.

The letter she wrote ran