rn this."

"Yes, indeed!" said Miss Ryan....

There was a burst of flame in the fireplace, and the little, pitiful
letter, with its selfishness and pain and sacrifice, vanished--as Lily's
handkerchief had vanished, and the braided ring of blossoming grass--all
gone, as the sparks that fly upward. Nobody could ever know the scented
humiliation of the handkerchief, or the agony of the faded ring, or the
renouncing love which had written the poor foolish letter. Maurice
wouldn't be pained. As for her gift to him of Jacky, she would just tell
him she wanted him to marry Lily, so he could have his child.... And
Edith? Oh, he would never think of Edith!

So she was very peaceful until, the next day, she heard Edith's voice
in the hall, then she frowned. "She's here! In the house with him!
Don't let her come in," she told Maurice; "she takes my breath." But,
somehow, she couldn't help thinking of Edith.... "That morning in the
garden she cried," Eleanor thought. It was strange to think of tears in
those clear, careless eyes. "I never supposed she _could_ cry. I've
cried a good deal. Men don't like tears." And there had been tears in
Edith's eyes when she came in and sat on the bed and said she was
"unhappy...." "She believed," Eleanor meditated, her own eyes closed,
"that it was because of _her_ that I went out to the river." She was
faintly sorry that Edith should reproach herself. "I didn't do it because
she made me angry; I did it to make Maurice happy. I almost wish she knew
that." Perhaps it was this vague regret that made her remember Edith's
assertion that she would do "anything on earth" to keep Maurice from
marrying Lily. "But that's the only way he can be sure of getting
Jacky," Eleanor argued to herself, her mind clearing into helpless
perplexity--"and it's the only way to keep him from Edith. But I wish
Lily wasn't so vulgar. Maurice won't like living with her." Suddenly she
said, "Maurice, do send the nurse out of the room. I want to tell you
something, darling." She was very hoarse.

"Better not talk, dear," he said, anxiously.

She smiled and shook her head. "I just want to tell you: I don't mind
not getting well, because then you'll marry Lily."

"Eleanor! Don't--don't--"

"And you can give little Jacky the kind of home he ought to have."

She drowsed. Maurice sat beside her with his face buried in his hands.
When she awoke, at dusk, she lay peacefully watching the firelight
flickering on the ceiling,