lasped hands clenched each other again. She made a
desperate attempt to be brave, and turned squarely towards her aunt.
The very necessity of the case drove her to take courage.

"Aunt Margaret," she said deliberately, "you do not quite understand
yet. I--I cannot--I am not going back to Mrs. Jarvis--any more."

Miss Gordon dropped the linen square she was embroidering, but
recovered it instantly. Even in the shock of dismay, she was dignified
and self-restrained.

"Elizabeth," she said with a dreadful calm, "what is this you are
telling me?"

"I cannot go back," repeated the girl with the courage of despair. "I
am sorry--oh, sorrier than I can possibly tell you, Aunt Margaret, that
I have brought all this trouble upon you. But I had to leave. I
explained to Mrs. Jarvis how I felt--that it seemed as if we both had
profited at Eppie's expense, and that as she had allowed Eppie to be
turned out of her home, I felt as if she were responsible--as well as
myself. And so I came away. I couldn't live that kind of life after
seeing Eppie's home--and what she was almost driven to. Oh, Aunt
Margaret, can't you understand that I couldn't!"

Miss Gordon was staring at her in a way that robbed Elizabeth of her
small stock of courage. "Wait," she said, raising her hand to stop the
incoherent flow. "Do I understand you to say that you--you insulted
Mrs. Jarvis--and left her?"

"I didn't mean to insult her," whispered Elizabeth with dry lips.
"I--I felt I was as much to blame as she--and I said so."

"And Mr. Huntley? What of him?" The girl looked up suddenly, a wave
of indignation lending a flash to her gray eyes.

"Aunt Margaret, he owned the house Eppie lived in!" she cried, as
though it were a final condemnation.

Miss Gordon waved her aside.

"And he was ready to offer you marriage. Mrs. Jarvis told me so in her
last letter. Elizabeth,--do you at all comprehend what a disastrous
thing you have done?"

Elizabeth looked out of the window in dumb despair. Miss Gordon arose,
and, crossing the room, closed the door leading into the hall. In all
the years in which she had seen her aunt disturbed over her
wrong-doing, Elizabeth had never witnessed her so near losing her
self-control. The sight alarmed her.

Miss Gordon came back to her seat and threw her work aside. She faced
her niece, clasping and unclasping her long slender hands, until her
heavy, old-fashioned rings made deep marks in the flesh.

"