or his condition."

"I'm responsible?" cried Gertrude with a start.

"Of course! You knew Mr. Prescott went away to look for your brother and
you kept it secret; when he saved your father from freezing, he almost
convinced him that he had nothing to do with Cyril's disappearance. You
must have known how it would have eased his mind to get rid of his
dreadful suspicions, but you worked upon him and brought them back."

Gertrude sank down in her chair with a shiver. A denial would serve no
purpose and she was conscious of her guilt.

"Could you expect me to be indifferent to the loss of my brother?"

"You knew you had not lost him. You believed what Mr. Prescott told you,
until we came." Muriel flushed and hesitated, for this was as far as she
would go. Even in her anger, she would not taunt her beaten rival with
defeat. "Now," she continued, "you must see what you have done. You have
made your father suffer terribly; I think you have weakened his mind,
and, if I hadn't turned the pistol, you would have made him kill an
innocent man. He seems too dazed and shaken to realize what he meant to
do, but the thing was horrible."

Gertrude sat silent for a few moments, her face drawn and colorless. Then
she looked up.

"I couldn't see what it would lead to. Do the others know what you have
told me? Does Mr. Prescott?"

She looked crushed and defenseless and Muriel's resentment softened.

"No," she said. "Nobody knows, and Mr. Prescott will never suspect; he's
not the man to think hard things of a woman. But I'm going to insist on
your taking your father away."

"But how can I?" cried Gertrude. "You know how determined he is!"

"You have influenced him already; you must do so again. You will regret
it all your life if you let him stay."

"Well," Gertrude promised desperately, "I will try." Then a thought
struck her and her expression grew gentler. "Muriel, have you realized
that if we leave here soon, the Colstons will accompany us and you will
have to go with them?"

"No," Muriel replied with a resolute smile; "I will stay."

Gertrude turned her head and there was silence for a while. Then she said
with an effort:

"I can't ask your forgiveness; it would be too much, and I'm not sure
that I wish to have it. But I feel that you are generous."

"Take your father home," Muriel responded, and getting up went quietly
out.

During the next fortnight, Gertrude exerted all her powers of persuasion,
without much succ