"

"It is a lie," repeated Anna, in that cold voice.

"Eye-witnesses will swear to it."

"They will lie," said Anna again; and turned and walked away. "Go on,"
she said to Fritz, taking her place beside Miss Leech.

She sat quite silent till they were near the house. Then she called to
the coachman to stop. "I am going into the forest for a little while,"
she said, jumping out "You drive on home." And she crossed the road
quickly, her white dress fluttering for a moment between the
pine-trunks, and then disappearing in the soft green shadow.

Miss Leech drove on alone, sighing gently. Something was troubling her
dear Miss Estcourt. Something out of the ordinary had happened. She
wished she could help her. She drove on, sighing.

Directly the road was out of sight, Anna struck back again to the left,
across the moss and lichen, towards the place where she knew there was a
path that led to Lohm. She walked very straight and very quickly. She
did not miss her way, but found the path and hastened her steps to a
run. What were they doing to Axel? She was going to his house, alone.
People would talk. Who cared? And when she had heard all that could be
told her there, she was going to Axel himself. People would talk. Who
cared? The laughable indifference of slander, when big issues of life
and death were at stake! All the tongues of all the world should not
frighten her away from Axel. Her eyes had a new look in them. For the
first time she was wide awake, was facing life as it is without dreams,
facing its absolute cruelty and pitilessness. This was life, these were
the realities--suffering, injustice, and shame; not to be avoided
apparently by the most honourable and innocent of men; but at least to
be fought with all the weapons in one's power, with unflinching courage
to the end, whatever that end might be. That was what one needed most,
of all the gifts of the gods--not happiness--oh, foolish, childish
dream! how could there be happiness so long as men were wicked?--but
courage. That blind look on Axel's face--no, she would not think of
that; it tore her heart. She stumbled a little as she ran--no, she would
not think of that.

Out in the open, between the forest and Lohm, she met Manske. "I was
coming to you," he said.

"I am going to him," said Anna.

"Oh, my dear young lady!" cried Manske; and two big tears rolled down
his face.

"Don't cry," she said, "it does not help him."

"How can I not do so after s