f had gained possession of
her. She could no more gainsay it, resist it, than if it had been
communicated to her by supernatural beings of visible presence and
actual speech. Given this belief, then her whole conduct is lifted to a
plane of heroism, takes rank with the grand martyrdoms; and is not to be
lightly condemned by any who remember the words,--"Greater love hath no
man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend."

The more Hetty thought over her plan, the simpler and more feasible
it appeared. More and more she concentrated all her energies on the
perfecting of every detail: she left nothing unthought of, either in her
arrangements for her own future, or in her arrangements for those she
left behind. Her will had been made for many years, leaving unreservedly
to her husband the whole estate of "Gunn's," and also all her other
property, except a legacy to Jim and Sally, and a few thousand dollars
to old Caesar and Nan. Hetty was singularly alone in the world. She
had no kindred to whom she felt that she owed a legacy. As she looked
forward to her own departure, she thought with great satisfaction of
the wealth which would now be her husband's. "He will sell the farm, no
doubt,--it isn't likely that he will care to live on here; and when
he has it all in money he can go to Europe, as he has so often said he
would," she said to herself, still, as ever, planning for her husband's
enjoyment.

As the autumn drew near, she went oftener with Raby to row on the Lake.
A spell seemed to draw her to the spot. She continually lived over,
in her mind, all the steps she must take when the time came. She rowed
slowly back and forth past the opening of the Springton road, and
fancied her own figure walking alone up that bank for the last time.
Several times she left Raby in the boat, and walked as far as the
Fairfield guide-post, and returned. At last she had rehearsed the
terrible drama so many times that it almost seemed to her as if it had
already happened, and she found it strange to be in her own house with
her husband and Jim and Sally and her servants. Already she began to
feel herself dissevered from them. When every thing was ready, she
shrank from taking the final step. Three times she went with Raby to the
Lake, having determined within herself not to return; but her courage
failed her, and she found a ready excuse for deferring all until the
next day. She had forgotten some little thing, or the weather