him walking slowly towards the principal entrance. Her
first instinct was to follow him--to send the house man to delay him--to
bring him back by some or any means. Once she could and would have done
so, but she did not feel it wise or possible then. What had happened?
She went slowly back to her breakfast, but there was a little ball in
her throat--she could not swallow--the grief and fear in her heart was
surging upward and choking her.

All that her mother-in-law had said came back to her memory. Had John
taken that one step away? Would he never take it back to her? She was
overwhelmed with a climbing sorrow that would not down. Yet she asked
with assumed indifference,

"Was the Master well this morning?"

"It's likely, ma'am. He wasn't complaining. That isn't Master's way."

Then she thought of her own complaining, and was silent.

After breakfast she went through the house and found every room
impossible. She flooded them with fresh air and sunshine, but she could
not empty them of phantoms and memories and with a little half-uttered
cry she put on her hat and went out. Surely in the oak wood she would
find the complete solitude she must have. She passed rapidly through the
band of ash-trees that shielded the house on the north and was directly
in the soft, deep shadow of umbrageous oaks a century old. They
whispered among themselves at her coming, they fanned her with a little
cool wind from the encircling mountains, and she threw herself
gratefully down upon the soft, warm turf at their feet.

Then all the sorrow of the past months overwhelmed her. She wept as if
her heart would break and there was a great silence all around which the
tinkle of a little brook over its pebbly bed only seemed to intensify.
Presently she had no more tears left and she dried her eyes and sat
upright and was suddenly aware of a great interior light, pitiless and
clear beyond all dayshine. And in it she saw herself with a vision more
than mortal. It was an intolerable vision, but during it there was
formed in her soul the faculty of prayer.

Out of the depths of her shame and sorrow she called upon God and He
heard her. She told Him all her selfishness and sin and urged by some
strong spiritual necessity, begged God's forgiveness and help with the
conquering prayers that He himself gave her. "Cast me not from Thy
Presence," she cried. "Take not Thy holy spirit from me," and then
there flashed across her trembling soul the horro