was gone from the window.

I did not return to my study. I stood by the side of the house, with my
fists clenched and my eyes set. Then, suddenly, I ran to the garden
wall; looking over it, I saw, far down the shaded village street, two
gray figures walking away.

XXII.

I CLOSE MY BOOK.

By the rarest good fortune my grandmother started that afternoon for a
visit to an old friend at the seashore, and, in the mild excitement of
her departure, I do not think she noticed anything unusual in my
demeanor.

"And so your amanuensis has left you?" she remarked, as she was eating a
hasty luncheon. "Sister Sarah stopped for a moment and told me so. She
said there was another one ready to take the place, if you wanted her."

I tried to suppress my feelings, but I must have spoken sharply.

"Want her!" I exclaimed. "I want none of her!"

My grandmother looked at me for a moment.

"I shall be sorry, Horace," she said, "if you find that the sisters do
not work to suit you. I hoped that you might continue to employ them,
because the House of Martha is at such a convenient distance, and offers
you such a variety of assistance to choose from; and also because you
would contribute to a most worthy cause. You know that all the money
they may make is to go to hospitals and that sort of thing."

"I was a little afraid, however," she continued, after a pause, "that
the sister you engaged might not suit you. She was so much younger than
the others that I feared that, away from the restraints of the
institution, she might be a little frivolous. Was she ever frivolous?"

"Not in the least," I answered; "not for an instant."

"I am very glad to hear that," she remarked,--"very glad indeed. I take
an interest in that sister. Years ago I knew her family, but that was
before she was born. I remember that I was intending to speak to you
about her, but in some way I was interrupted."

"Well," I asked, "tell me now, who is she?"

"She _is_," said my grandmother, "Sister Hagar, of the House of Martha.
She _was_ Sylvia Raynor, of New Haven. I think that in some way her life
has been darkened. Mother Anastasia takes a great interest in her, and
favors her a good deal. I know there was opposition to her entering the
House, but she was determined to do it. You say you are not going to
engage another sister? Who is to be your amanuensis?"

"No one," I answered. "I shall stop writing for the present. This is a
very good time. I've