esswell ever known of Zora?
What kind of a woman was Zora now? Mrs. Cresswell had seen her and had
talked to her and watched her. What did she think? Thus he formulated
his questions as he went, half timid, and fearful in putting them and
yet determined to know.

Mrs. Cresswell, waiting for him, was almost panic-stricken. Probably he
would beat round the bush seeking further encouragement; but at the
slightest indication she must crush him ruthlessly and at the same time
point the path of duty. He ought to marry some good girl--not Zora, but
some one. Somehow Zora seemed too unusual and strange for him--too
inhuman, as Mary Cresswell judged humanity. She glanced out from her
seat on the upper verandah over the front porch and saw Alwyn coming.
Where should she receive him? On the porch and have Mr. Maxwell ride up?
In the parlor and have the servants astounded and talking? If she took
him up to her own sitting-room the servants would think he was doing
some work or fetching something for the school. She greeted him briefly
and asked him in.

"Good-afternoon, Bles"--using his first name to show him his place, and
then inwardly recoiling at its note of familiarity. She preceded him
up-stairs to the sitting-room, where, leaving the door ajar, she seated
herself on the opposite side of the room and waited.

He fidgeted, then spoke rapidly.

"Mrs. Cresswell--this is a personal affair." She reddened angrily. "A
love affair"--she paled with something like fear--"and I"--she started
to speak, but could not--"I want to know what you think about Zora?"

"About Zora!" she gasped weakly. The sudden reaction, the revulsion of
her agitated feelings, left her breathless.

"About Zora. You know I loved her dearly as a boy--how dearly I have
only just begun to realize: I've been wondering if I understood--if I
wasn't--"

Mrs. Cresswell got angrily to her feet.

"You have come here to speak to me of that--that--" she choked, and Bles
thought his worst fears realized.

"Mary, Mary!" Colonel Cresswell's voice broke suddenly in upon them.
With a start of fear Mrs. Cresswell rushed out into the hall and closed
the door.

"Mary, has that Alwyn nigger been here this afternoon?" Mr. Cresswell
was coming up-stairs, carrying his riding whip.

"Why, no!" she answered, lying instinctively before she quite realized
what her lie meant. She hesitated. "That is, I haven't seen him. I must
have nodded over my book,"--looking toward the lit