months thereafter relations between the two were
strained; Barnabas scarcely spoke to his older daughter and Hephzy shed
tears in the solitude of her bedroom. They were hard months for her.

At the end of them came the crash. Morley had developed a habit
of running up to Boston on business trips connected with his
father-in-law's investments. Of late these little trips had become more
frequent. Also, so it seemed to Hephzy, he was losing something of
his genial sweetness and suavity, and becoming more moody and less
entertaining. Telegrams and letters came frequently and these he read
and destroyed at once. He seldom played the violin now unless Captain
Barnabas--who was fond of music of the simpler sort--requested him to do
so and he seemed uneasy and, for him, surprisingly disinclined to talk.

Hephzy was not the only one who noticed the change in him. Ardelia
noticed it also and, as she always did when troubled or perplexed,
sought her sister's advice.

"I sha'n't ever forget that night when she came to me for the last
time," Hephzy has told me over and over again. "She came up to my room,
poor thing, and set down on the side of my bed and told me how worried
she was about her husband. Father had turned in and HE was out, gone
to the post-office or somewheres. I had Ardelia all to myself, for a
wonder, and we sat and talked just the same as we used to before she was
married. I'm glad it happened so. I shall always have that to remember,
anyhow.

"Of course, all her worry was about Strickland. She was afraid he was
makin' himself sick. He worked so hard; didn't I think so? Well, so far
as that was concerned, I had come to believe that almost any kind of
work was liable to make HIM sick, but of course I didn't say that to
her. That somethin' was troublin' him was plain, though I was far enough
from guessin' what that somethin' was.

"We set and talked, about Strickland and about Father and about
ourselves. Mainly Ardelia's talk was a praise service with her husband
for the subject of worship; she was so happy with him and idolized
him so that she couldn't spare time for much else. But she did speak a
little about herself and, before she went away, she whispered somethin'
in my ear which was a dead secret. Even Father didn't know it yet,
she said. Of course I was as pleased as she was, almost--and a little
frightened too, although I didn't say so to her. She was always a frail
little thing, delicate as she was pre