ld and wicked. It had
taken the man she loved and would have loved till she died, even though
he could never have been hers, and she had given him to another; it had
taken him, killed him cruelly, perhaps. And now it might be bringing to
her the one who was responsible for all her sorrow, the one she could
not think of without a shudder. She clung to the window sash and prayed
aloud.

"Lord! Lord!" she pleaded, "don't put any more on me now. I couldn't
stand it! I couldn't!"

Ellery, too, was thinking deeply as he walked up the main road on his
way to Mrs. Prince's. Keziah's words were repeating themselves over and
over in his brain. She had asked about him. She had not forgotten him
altogether. And what did the housekeeper mean by saying that she had
not loved Captain Hammond in the way that--Not that it could make any
difference. Nothing could give him back his happiness. But what did it
mean?

Mrs. Prince was very glad to see him. He found her in the big armchair
with the quilted back and the projecting "wings" at each side of her
head. She was wrapped in a "Rising Sun" quilt which was a patchwork
glory of red and crimson. A young girl, a neighbor, who was apparently
acting in the dual capacity of nurse and housekeeper, admitted him to
the old lady's presence.

"Well, well!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Then you ain't forgot me
altogether. I'm awful glad to see you. You'll excuse me for not gettin'
up; my back's got more pains in it than there is bones, a good sight.
Dr. Parker says it's nothin' serious, and all I had to do was set still
and take his medicine. I told him that either the aches or the medicine
made settin' still serious enough, and when your only amusement is
listenin' to Emeline Berry--she's the girl that's takin' care of
me--when your only fun is listenin' to Emeline drop your best dishes in
the kitchen sink, it's pretty nigh tragic. There! there! don't mind an
old woman, Mr. Ellery. Set down and let's talk. It's a comfort to be
able to say somethin' besides 'Don't, Emeline!' and 'Be sure you pick up
all the pieces!'"

Mrs. Prince's good spirits were of short duration. Her conversation soon
shifted to the loss of her son and she wept, using the corner of the
quilt to wipe away her tears. "Eddie" had been her idol and, as she
said, it was hard to believe what folks kept tellin' her, that it was
God's will, and therefore all for the best.

"That's so easy to say," she sobbed. "Maybe it is best f