it
mutely.

"They discounted your resemblance to my side of the house." There was
something almost pathetic underlying the sneer in Thornton's voice. "I
did not know myself until I came in the door--but when I saw you, it was
as if my mother stood here."

Joan could not speak, but, as a change of wind turned the mists in The
Gap _to_ the east instead of _from_ the east, so her clouds were
drifting; drifting, and a flood of light was blinding her. She looked
up--her eyes were shining with tears that did not fall; her lips
twitched nervously, but she was happy; happy. The sensation brought
strength and purpose. She did not seem alone--she was close, close to
them who, unseen, but vital, were pressing near; waiting for her
decision--now that she understood! What had her unconscious preparation
done for her?

Oh! she would not fail them. She was almost ready to prove herself. In a
moment she could master her emotions and be worthy.

Then she looked at Thornton and throbbed with hate; but as she looked
her mood again changed--she felt such pity as she had never known in her
life before.

It repelled; it did not attract--but it was pity that called forth a
desire to help. Clasping the silent witnesses of the truth in her cold
hands Joan spoke:

"No! Aunt Doris and Nancy shall not pay," she said, quietly.

"Who--then?" Thornton felt the ground slipping from under him. The young
creature opposite looked so old and hard that she impressed him in spite
of himself.

"You and I--will pay!"

By those words Joan took her stand with Thornton, not against him. He
winced.

"Think--think what all this means," she faltered.

Thornton did think. He thought back of the girl confronting him with his
mother's eyes. The backward path was black and wreck-strewn; it
led--where?

"Aunt Doris has told me of--of my mother! You and I owe my mother----"
here Joan choked and Thornton burst in:

"But is it right and decent--that this imposition should be put upon
innocent people? That girl--may turn out to be----"

But Joan was not heeding. She paused and looked at the unfinished but
perfect work upon the loom!

"It is too late now to consider that," she whispered, brokenly. Then:
"Aunt Doris has saved Nancy. You need have no fear.

"Oh! can you not see what a chance you have to--to help this wonderful
thing Aunt Doris did?"

"Help? How?" Thornton sunk back in his chair. He was crushed--but in the
depths of his soul something w