duct has tired me. Good-night."

"Good-night," he replied in an unimpassioned voice.

As the widow ascended she told herself that she had adopted entirely the
right attitude. She might relent to-morrow, but till then it was well he
should be deprived of the sunshine of her smiles.

Next morning at the hour of 10:15 she stepped out of the lift to find
Jean waiting in the hall. She greeted Mrs. Dunbar with a markedly
composed air.

"I hope you won't mind breakfasting alone?" she said.

It was evident that the widow did mind.

"Do you mean to say your father has actually breakfasted without me?"

"Unfortunately, he had to."

"Had to!"

"He and Frank found they must catch the ten o'clock train."

Mrs. Dunbar gasped.

"He--has gone?"

"Yes."

"But he promised to go with me!"

"I understood him to say," said Jean quietly, "that he had merely
promised to go north."

"Oh, indeed! Then he has run away?"

"From whom?" asked Jean demurely.

The widow bit her lip.

"I consider his conduct simply disgraceful--"

Jean interrupted her quickly--

"I had rather not discuss my father's conduct. Don't let me keep you
from breakfast."

Mrs. Dunbar remained standing in silence, a magnificent statue of
displeasure. In a moment she inquired--

"And why are you waiting here?"

"Father thought you might like my company on the journey."

"How very thoughtful of him! Then you go at two?"

"Yes."

The widow gazed at her intently.

"I can hardly believe this of Heriot. Is all this his own idea?"

Jean flushed slightly, but answered as demurely as ever--

"It is his wish."

"Ah, I see!" exclaimed Mrs. Dunbar bitterly, "I thought there was a
woman's hand in this affair."

"Do you mean another woman's hand?"

The injured lady began uneasily to realize that there was a fresh
factor in the situation. But who would have dreamt of little Jean
Walkingshaw being dangerous? As Madge traveled north that afternoon,
uncompromisingly secluded behind a lady's journal, she could not get
out of her head the uncomfortable fancy that her trim, fair-haired
escort sat like a protecting deity (heathen and sinister) between
Heriot and all who desired, even with the most loving purpose, to
chasten his faults and moderate the exuberance of his too virile
spirit.

Jean herself was warmly conscious that some such duty was surely laid
upon her. With what less reward could she repay all he had done for her?
It will be discovered,