hat
she was the wife of Truxton Beaufort, whom she had adored from babyhood.

"I would have married him, Dad, if--if I had had to tramp the road."

Truxton came on the noon train. He drove at once to Huntersfield with
his mother, was embraced by the Judge, kissed Becky, and suddenly
disappeared.

"Where's he gone?" the Judge asked, irritably. "Where has he gone,
Claudia?"

"He will be back in time for lunch," said Mrs. Beaufort. "May I speak to
you in the library, Father?"

Becky, from the moment of her aunt's arrival, had known that something
was wrong. She had expected to see Mrs. Beaufort glowing with renewed
youth, radiant. Instead, she looked as if a blight had come upon her,
shrivelled--old. When she smiled it was without joy; she was dull and
flat.

It was a half hour before Aunt Claudia came out from the library. "My
dear," she said, finding Becky still on the porch, "I have something to
tell you. Will you go up-stairs with me?--I--think I should like to--lie
down----"

Becky put a strong young arm about her and they went up together.

"It's--it's about Truxton," Aunt Claudia said, prone on the couch in her
room. "Becky--he's married----"

_"Married?"_

"Married, my dear. He did not tell me until--last night. He wanted me to
be happy--as long as I could. He's a dear boy, Becky--but--he's
married----" She went on presently with an effort. "He has been married
over two years--and, Becky--he has married--Mary Flippin."

_"Aunt Claudia----"_

"He married her in Petersburg--before he went to France with the first
ambulance corps. They decided not to tell anyone. Mary took Truxton's
middle name. When the baby came, Truxton was wild to write us, but
Mary--wouldn't. She felt if he was here when it was told that we would
forgive him---- If anything--happened to him--she didn't want him to die
feeling that we had--blamed him---- I must say that Mary--was
wise--but--to think that my son has married--Mary Flippin."

"Mary's a dear," said Becky stoutly.

"Yes," Aunt Claudia agreed, "but not a wife for my son. I had such hopes
for him, Becky. He could have married anybody."

Becky knew the kind of woman that Aunt Claudia had wanted Truxton to
marry--one whose ancestors were like those whose portraits hung in the
hall at Huntersfield--a woman with a high-held head--a woman whose
family traditions paralleled those of the Bannisters and Beauforts.

"Then Fiddle is Truxton's child."

"And I am a grandmother