s he did. He was so brave."

"I know someone braver!" said Grizel in her heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

JUDGMENT OF YOUTH.

For the rest of the afternoon the house was still as the grave, each
member of the little party preserving a rigorous silence for the sake of
those others who were presumably asleep, but with the exception of
Cassandra sleep was conspicuous by its absence. The Squire retired to a
distant corner of the garden, and practised putting by himself,
reflecting ruefully on his interrupted game. Martin sat by Grizel's
couch, mentally abusing himself for the morning's desertion. Grizel had
asked him to join the picnic, and he had preferred to go off on his own
devices. Probably if he had been present, the accident would have
happened just the same, but he would have been beside her to help and
support. Excuse himself as he might, the fact remained that Grizel had
gone through an appalling experience alone. The thought filled him with
a passion of tenderness and remorse, and even in the depths of her
mental and physical exhaustion, Grizel luxuriated in the consciousness,
and lured him on with tender wiles. It was all the rest she wanted,
just to lie still, holding Martin's hand, to feel his touch on her
forehead. The unconsciousness of sleep would have been poor in
comparison, for her heart needed healing more than her body. A few
hours, a few days at most, and even Cassandra herself would have
surmounted the physical strain of the morning, but what of the hidden
danger from which the veil had been torn aside? Now that it had been
revealed--what was to happen to those three young lives?

Grizel had given her husband a detailed account of the accident, but she
had refrained from telling him of Dane's mad words. Whether or not she
would ever tell him, would depend on future events. He had a right to
know everything that concerned herself, but she would have felt it to be
a disloyalty to her friends to have betrayed the new complication which
had come into their lives. It was for them to work out their own
salvation; for her, as the onlooker, to be silent, and wait.

As for Martin, he was too much absorbed in his wife to display undue
curiosity, and his eyes had discovered nothing mysterious in the
condition of either Teresa or Dane himself.

"The fellow is played out. He must have been half crazed to do what he
did. No man would have the strength in a normal condition. In the
great mo