ant to think. It seems such a dreadful thing
to sell the place. And why need you hurry to send off a letter to Mr.
Hilary about it? Won't it be time enough, when Mr. Putney has the
writings ready? I think it will look very silly to send word beforehand.
I could see that Mr. Putney didn't think it was business-like."

"You want to break your promise?" Suzette repeated.

"_No_, I don't want to break my promise. But I do want to do what's
right; and I want to do what _I_ think is right. I'm almost sick. I want
Elbridge should stop for the doctor on his way to Mr. Putney's." She
broke into a convulsive sobbing. "Oh, Suzette! _Do_ give me a little
more time! Won't you? And as soon as I can see it as you do--"

They heard the rattling of a key in the back door of the cottage, and
they knew it was Elbridge coming to make the fire in the kitchen stove,
as he always did against the time his wife should come to get breakfast.
Suzette started up from her pillow, and pulled Adeline's face down on
her neck, so as to smother the sound of her sobs. "Hush! Don't let him
hear! And I wouldn't let any one know for the world that we didn't
agree! You can think it over all day, if you want; and I'll stop Mr.
Putney from writing till you think as _I_ do. But be still, now!"

"Yes, yes! I will," Adeline whispered back. "And I won't quarrel with
you, Sue! I know we shall think alike in the end. Only, don't hurry me!
And let Elbridge get the doctor to come. I'm afraid I'm going to be down
sick."

She crept sighing back to bed, and after a little while, Suzette came,
dressed, to look after her. "I think I'm going to get a little sleep,
now," she said. "But don't forget to stop Mr. Putney."

Suzette went out into the thin, sweet summer morning air, and walked up
and down the avenue between the lodge and the empty mansion. She had not
slept, either; it was from her first drowse that Adeline had wakened
her. But she was young, and the breath of the cool, southwest wind was a
bath of rest to her fevered senses. She felt herself grow stronger in
it, and she tried to think what she ought to do. If her purpose of the
day before still seemed so wholly and perfectly just, it seemed very
difficult; and she began to ask herself whether she had a right to
compel Adeline's consent to it. She felt the perplexities of the world
where good and evil are often so mixed that when the problem passes from
thoughts to deeds, the judgment is darkened and the will