ld it have been better that she should? That she should have gone
down from her dreams into a plain man's life, and made a plain man
happy? Some women, of far higher mental culture and social place, have
done this, and, seemingly, done well. Only God and their own hearts know
if the seeming be true.

Glory waited. "Everybody needn't marry," she said.

This night, with those words of Mr. Armstrong's in her ears, revealing
to her so much, she stood before that window of his and watched the
fire.

Doors were open behind her, leading through to Miss Henderson's chamber.
She would hear her mistress if she stirred.

If she had known what she did not know--that Faith Gartney stood at this
moment in that burning mill, looking forth despairingly on those bright
waters and green fields that lay between it and this home of hers--that
were so near her, she might discern each shining pebble and the separate
grass blades in the scarlet light, yet so infinitely far, so gone from
her forever--had she known all this, without knowing the help and hope
that were coming--she would yet have said "How beautiful it would be to
be like Miss Faith!"

She watched the fire till it began to deaden, and the glow paled out
into the starlight.

By and by, up from the direction of the river road, she saw a chaise
approaching. It was stopped at the corner, by the bar place. Two figures
descended from it, and entered upon the field path through the stile.

One--yes--it was surely the minister! The other--a woman. Who?

Miss Faith!

Glory met them upon the doorstone.

Faith held her finger up.

"I was afraid of disturbing my aunt," said she.

"Take care of her, Glory," said her companion. "She has been in
frightful danger."

"At the fire! And you----"

"I was there in time, thank God!" spoke Roger Armstrong, from his soul.

The two girls passed through to the blue bedroom, softly.

Mr. Armstrong went back to the mills again, with horse and chaise.

Glory shut the bedroom door.

"Why, you are all wet, and draggled, and smoked!" said she, taking off
Faith's outer, borrowed garments. "What _has_ happened to you--and how
came you there, Miss Faith?"

"I fell asleep in the countingroom, last evening, and got locked in. I
was coming home. I can't tell you now, Glory. I don't dare to think it
all over, yet. And we mustn't let Aunt Faith know that I am here."

These sentences they spoke in whispers.

Glory asked no more; but brought wa