ver loved him; felt him to be a
stranger, simply because he had interpreted the words of a dying man
for her?

In the light of realization the errors of life become our most deadly
accusers. We dare not make others pay for the folly that we should
never have perpetrated. Mary-Clare, the woman, had paid and paid,
until now she faced bankruptcy; she was prepared still to do her part
as far as in her lay--but she must retrace her steps, be sure and then
go on as best she could.

Always, in those old childish days, there had been the grim spectre of
Larry's mother. Her name was never mentioned but to the imaginative,
sensitive Mary-Clare, she became, for that very reason, a clearly
defined and potent influence. She was responsible for the doctor's
lonely life in King's Forest; for Larry's long absences from home; for
the lines that grew between the old doctor's eyes when he laid down
the few simple laws of conduct that formed the iron code of life:

_Never lie. Never break a promise. Never take advantage for selfish
gain. Think things out with your woman brain, and never count the cost
if you know it is right._

Larry's mother, so the child believed, had not kept the code--therefore,
Mary-Clare must the more strictly adhere to it and become what the
other had not! And how desperately she had struggled to reach her
ideal. In the conflict, only her sunny joyous nature had saved her from
wreck. Naturally direct and loyal, much of what might have occurred
was prevented. Passionate love and devout belief in the old doctor
eliminated other dangers.

It was well and right to use your "woman brain," but when in the end
you always came to the conclusion that the doctor's way was your way,
life was simplified. If one could not fully understand, then all the
more reason for relying upon a good guide, a tested friend; but above
all other considerations, once the foundation was secure was this: she
must make up to her adored doctor and Larry for what that unmentioned,
mysterious woman had denied them.

It had all seemed so simple, when one did not know!

That was it. Breathing hard, Mary-Clare came back to the present. She
could not know until she had lived, and being married did not stop
life. And now, Mary-Clare could consider, as if apart from herself,
from the girl who had married Larry because he had caught the dying
request of the old doctor. She had wanted to do right at that last
tragic moment. She had done it with the