d to think why she acted, or whether it
was right or wrong. The best and worst hours of life are in themselves
irresponsible, the will hurled headlong forward by an impulse that has
gathered force before.

And what did she do? The first thing that entered her mind--it mattered
not what to her. The man was in her power, and she knew it.

When the children's arms were full and they had gone on homeward down a
pathway among lower sumac thickets, Alec turned and saw Sophia, just as
stately, just as quiet, as he had ever seen her. So they two began to
follow.

Her hand had been cut the day before, and the handkerchief that bound it
had come off. Demurely she gave it to him to be fastened. Now the hand
had been badly cut, and when he saw that he could not repress the
tenderness of his sympathy.

"How could you have done it?" he asked, filled with pain, awed,
wondering.

She laughed, though she did not mean to; she was so light-hearted, and
it was very funny to see how quickly he softened at her will.

"Do not ask me to tell you how low we Rexfords have descended!" she
cried, "and yet I will confess I did it with the meat axe. I ought not
to touch such a thing, you think! Nay, what can I do when the loin is
not jointed and the servant has not so steady a hand as I? Would you
have me let papa grumble all dinner-time--the way that you men do, you
know?"

The little horror that she had painted for him so vividly did its work.
With almost a groan he touched the hand with kisses, not knowing what he
did; and looking up, frightened of her as far as he could be conscious
of fear, he saw, not anger, but a face that fain would hide itself, and
he hid it in his embrace.

"Oh," cried he, "what have I done?"

Stepping backward, he stood a few paces from her, his arms crossed, the
glow on his face suddenly transcended by the look with which a man might
regard a crime he had committed.

"What is it?" she cried, wickedly curious. The maple tree over her was a
golden flame and her feet were on a carpet of gold. All around them the
earth was heaped with palm-like sumac shrubs, scarlet, crimson,
purple--dyed as it were, with blood.

"What have I done?" He held out his hands as if they had been stained.
"I have loved you, I have dared, without a thought, _without a thought
for you_, to walk straight into all the--the--heaven of it."

Then he told her, in a word, that about himself which he thought she
would despise; and she saw t