ks she
had revolved the matter hopelessly, till one day, as she was rowing with
Raby on the lake, she heard a whistle of a steam-engine on the Springton
side of the lake. In that second, her whole plan flashed upon her brain.
She remembered that a railroad, leading to Canada, ran between Springton
and the lake. She remembered that there was a station not many miles
from Springton. She remembered that far up in Canada was a little French
village, St. Mary's, where she had once spent part of a summer with her
father. St. Mary's was known far and near for its medicinal springs, and
the squire had been sent there to try them. She remembered that there
was a Roman Catholic priest there of whom her father had been very fond.
She remembered that there were Sisters of Charity there, who used to go
about nursing the sick. She remembered the physician under whose
care her father was. She remembered all these things with a startling
vividness in the twinkling of an eye, before the echoes of the
steam-engine's whistle had died away on the air. She was almost
paralyzed by the suddenness and the clearness with which she was
impressed that she must go to St. Mary's. She dropped the oars, leaned
forward, and looked eagerly at the opening in the woods where the
Springton road touched the shore.

"What is it, aunty? What do you see!" asked Raby. The child's voice
recalled her to herself.

"Nothing! nothing! Raby. I was only listening to the car-whistle. Didn't
you hear it?" answered Hetty.

"No," said Raby. "Where are they going? Can't you take me some day."

The innocent words smote on Hetty's heart. How should she leave Raby?
What would her life be without him? his without her? But thinking about
herself had never been Hetty's habit. That a thing would be hard for
her had never been to Hetty any reason for not doing it, since she was
twelve years old. From all the pain and loss which were involved to
her in this terrible step she turned resolutely away, and never thought
about them except with a guilty sense of selfishness. She believed with
all the intensity of a religious conviction that it would be better for
her husband, now, to have Rachel Barlow for his wife. She believed, with
the same intensity, that she alone stood in the way of this good for
him. Call it morbid, call it unnatural, call it wicked if you will, in
Hetty Williams to have this belief: you must judge her conduct from its
standpoint, and from no other. The belie