difference were three young
women in a small "frame-house" on Cape Cod. Ransom learned from Doctor
Prance that her mortal remains were to be committed to their rest in the
little cemetery at Marmion, in sight of the pretty sea-view she loved to
gaze at, among old mossy headstones of mariners and fisher-folk. She had
seen the place when she first came down, when she was able to drive out
a little, and she had said she thought it must be pleasant to lie there.
It was not an injunction, a definite request; it had not occurred to
Miss Birdseye, at the end of her days, to take an exacting line or to
make, for the first time in eighty years, a personal claim. But Olive
Chancellor and Verena had put their construction on her appreciation of
the quietest corner of the striving, suffering world so weary a pilgrim
of philanthropy had ever beheld.

In the course of the day Ransom received a note of five lines from
Verena, the purport of which was to tell him that he must not expect to
see her again for the present; she wished to be very quiet and think
things over. She added the recommendation that he should leave the
neighbourhood for three or four days; there were plenty of strange old
places to see in that part of the country. Ransom meditated deeply on
this missive, and perceived that he should be guilty of very bad taste
in not immediately absenting himself. He knew that to Olive Chancellor's
vision his conduct already wore that stain, and it was useless,
therefore, for him to consider how he could displease her either less or
more. But he wished to convey to Verena the impression that he would do
anything in the wide world to gratify _her_ except give her up, and as
he packed his valise he had an idea that he was both behaving
beautifully and showing the finest diplomatic sense. To go away proved
to himself how secure he felt, what a conviction he had that however she
might turn and twist in his grasp he held her fast. The emotion she had
expressed as he stood there before poor Miss Birdseye was only one of
her instinctive contortions; he had taken due note of that--said to
himself that a good many more would probably occur before she would be
quiet. A woman that listens is lost, the old proverb says; and what had
Verena done for the last three weeks but listen?--not very long each
day, but with a degree of attention of which her not withdrawing from
Marmion was the measure. She had not told him that Olive wanted to whisk
he