iece had moved westward, seeking immunity in a
region where such obscure professions were regarded with a more
lenient eye. Joan had little enough sympathy with her relative's
studies. She neither believed in them, nor did she disbelieve. She was
so young, and so full of that vitality which makes for the wholesome
enjoyment of life, as viewed through eyes as yet undimmed by the
bitterness of experience, that she had neither time, place, nor
serious thought for such matters. Her only interest, if interest it
could be called, was an occasional wonderment at the extent of the
harvest Aunt Mercy reaped out of the credulity of the merchant and
finance-princes of the city. This, and the state of her aunt's health,
as pronounced by Dr. Valmer, were the only things which ever brought
such matters as "crystal gazing" and scientific astrology into her
mind. Otherwise horoscopes, prognostications, warnings, omens, passed
her by as mere words to raise a smile of youthful derision at the
expense of those who heaped money for such readings into the seer's
lap.

Joan was in no way dependent upon her aunt. Living with her was a
matter of personal choice. Mercy Lascelles was her only relative for
one thing, and the elder woman being a lonely spinster, it seemed only
right that Joan should make her home under her scarcely hospitable
roof. Then, too, there was another reason which influenced the girl.
It was a purely sentimental reason, such as at her age might well
appeal to her. A whisper had reached her to the effect that, hard and
unsympathetic as her Aunt Mercy was, romance at one time had place in
her life--a romance which left her the only sufferer, a romance that
had spelt a life's disaster for her. To the adamantine fortune-teller
was attributed a devotion so strong, so passionate in the days of her
youth that her reason had been well-nigh unhinged by the hopelessness
of it. The object of it was her own sister's husband, Joan's father.
It was said that at the moment of his death Mercy Lascelles' youth
died too. All softness, all gentleness passed out of her life and left
her the hard, prematurely aged woman she now was.

As a consequence Joan felt that her duty lay beside a woman whom Fate
had treated so ill; that duty demanded that an effort must be made to
bring a little brightness into so solitary and loveless a life.

So her choice was made. And as she grew accustomed to the stern
companionship she often found herself wond