shame when she contemplated the feelings he aroused in
her. It was when she asked herself what his intentions were that her
resentment burned, pride and a sense of her own value convinced her that
he had deeply insulted her in not offering marriage. Plainly, he did not
intend to offer marriage; on the other hand, if he had done so, a
profound, self-respecting and moral instinct in her would, in her present
mood, have led her to refuse. She felt a fine scorn for the woman who,
under the circumstances, would insist upon a bond and all a man's worldly
goods in return for that which it was her privilege to give freely; while
the notion of servility, of economic dependence--though she did not so
phrase it--repelled her far more than the possibility of social ruin.

This she did not contemplate at all; her impulse to leave Hampton and
Ditmar had nothing to do with that....

Away from Ditmar, this war of inclinations possessed her waking mind,
invaded her dreams. When she likened herself to the other exploited
beings he drove to run his mills and fill his orders,--of whom Mr.
Siddons had spoken--her resolution to leave Hampton gained such definite
ascendancy that her departure seemed only a matter of hours.

In this perspective Ditmar appeared so ruthless, his purpose to use her
and fling her away so palpable, that she despised herself for having
hesitated. A longing for retaliation consumed her; she wished to hurt him
before she left. At such times, however, unforeseen events invariably
intruded to complicate her feelings and alter her plans. One evening at
supper, for instance, when she seemed at last to have achieved the
comparative peace of mind that follows a decision after struggle, she
gradually became aware of an outburst from Hannah concerning the stove,
the condition of which for many months had been a menace to the welfare
of the family. Edward, it appeared, had remarked mildly on the absence of
beans.

"Beans!" Hannah cried. "You're lucky to have any supper at all. I just
wish I could get you to take a look at that oven--there's a hole you can
put your hand through, if you've a mind to. I've done my best, I've made
out to patch it from time to time, and to-day I had Mr. Tiernan in. He
says it's a miracle I've been able to bake anything. A new one'll cost
thirty dollars, and I don't know where the money's coming from to buy it.
And the fire-box is most worn through."

"Well, mother, we'll see what we can do," sa