not say any more. She was trembling so that her very
thoughts seemed to waver. They turned the corner of the old road, and
drove up to her old house. Richard stepped off the sled, and held out
his hands to Sylvia. "Come, get off," said he.

"I dunno about this," said Jonathan Leavitt. "I'm willin' as far as
I'm concerned, Richard, but I've had my instructions."

"I tell you I'll take care of it," said Richard Alger. "I'll settle
all the damages with the town. Come, Sylvia, get off."

And Sylvia Crane stepped weakly off the wood-sled, and Richard Alger
helped her into the house. "Why, you can't hardly walk," said he, and
Sylvia had never heard anything like the tenderness in his tone. He
bent down and rolled away the stone. Sylvia had rolled it in front of
the door herself, when she went out, as she supposed, for the last
time. Then he opened the door, and took hold of her slender shawled
arm, and half lifted her in.

"Go in an' sit down," said he, "while we get the things in."

Sylvia went mechanically into her clean, fireless parlor; it was the
room where she had always received Richard. She sat down in a
flag-bottomed chair and waited.

Richard and Jonathan Leavitt came into the house tugging the
feather-bed between them. "We'll put it in the kitchen," she heard
Richard say. They brought in the chest and the bundle of bedding.
Then Richard came into the parlor carrying the rocking-chair before
him. "You want this in here, don't you?" he said.

"It belongs here," said Sylvia, faintly. Jonathan Leavitt gathered up
his reins and drove out of the yard.

Richard set down the chair; then he went and stood before Sylvia.

"Look here, Sylvia," said he. Then he stopped and put his hands over
his face. His whole frame shook. Sylvia stood up. "Don't, Richard,"
she said.

"I never had any idea of this," said Richard Alger, with a great
groaning sob.

"Don't you feel so bad, Richard," said Sylvia.

Suddenly Richard put is arm around Sylvia, and pulled her close to
him. "I'll look out and do better by you the rest of your life,
anyhow," he said. He took hold of Sylvia's veil and pulled it back.
Her pale face drooped before him.

"You look--half--starved," he groaned. Sylvia looked up and saw tears
on his rough cheeks.

"Don't you feel bad, Richard," she said again.

"I'd ought to feel bad," said Richard, fiercely.

"I couldn't help it, that night you come an' found me gone. It was
that night Charlotte had the t