voice was anxious and, though he divined how much was balanced on his
answer, he would not adjust it nicely.

"Not exactly," he said honestly, and he saw a light of relief and a
shadow of disappointment chase each other on her face.

"After all, I think I do know you rather well," he murmured, as he took
her by the shoulders. "Do you understand what I am doing?"

"You're telling me the truth."

"And at what a cost?"

She nodded. "But you couldn't help telling me the truth."

"And if I bemoaned my loneliness, how my collars get lost in the wash,
how tired I am of Eliza's cooking and her face, how bad my cough is,
then you'd let me carry you away?"

"I might. Zebedee--are those things true, too?"

"Not particularly."

"And your cough isn't bad?"

He hesitated. "It is rather bad."

"And you're a doctor!"

"But my dear, darling, love--I've no control over the weather."

"You ought to go away," she said in a low voice.

"I hope it won't come to that," he said.

It was Rupert who asked her a week later if she had jilted Zebedee.

"Why?" she asked quickly.

"He's ill, woman."

"I know."

"But really ill. You ought to send him away until the spring."

Her lips moved for a few seconds before she uttered "Yes," and after
that sound she was mute under the double fear of keeping him and parting
from him, but, since to let him go would give her the greater pain, it
was the lesser fear, and it might be that the powers who were always
waiting near to demand a price would, in this manner, let her get her
paying done. She welcomed the chance of paying in advance and she kept
silence while she strengthened herself to do it bravely.

Because she did not speak, Rupert elaborated. "When Zebedee loses his
temper, there's something wrong."

"Has he done that?"

"Daniel daren't speak to him."

"He never speaks to people: he expounds."

"True; but your young man was distinctly short with me, even me,
yesterday. Listen to your worldly brother, Helen. Why don't you marry
him and take him into the sun? It's shining somewhere, one supposes."

"I can't."

"Why not? There's Miriam."

"What good is she?"

"You never give her a chance. You're one of those self-sacrificing,
selfish people who stunt other people's growth. It's like not letting a
baby learn to walk for fear it falls and hurts itself, or tumbles into
the best flower-beds and ruins 'em. Have you ever thought of that?"

"But she's happier than she used