now the details," he said. "It doesn't much
matter what you're going to do--if you really go away. I can't stop
you--I see that. If you think this thing is your 'duty' you'll do it if
it kills us all--and you too! If you have to go--I shall do nothing--can
do nothing--but wait till you come back to me! Whatever happens,
darling--no matter how you fail--don't ever be afraid to come back to
me."

He folded his arms now--did not attempt to hold her--gave her the
freedom she asked and promised her the love she had almost feared to
lose--and her whole carefully constructed plan seemed like a child's
sand castle for a moment; her heroic decision the wildest folly.

He was not even looking at her; she saw his strong, clean-cut profile
dark against the moonlit house, a settled patience in its lines. Duty!
Here was duty, surely, with tenderest happiness. She was leaning toward
him--her hand was seeking his, when she heard through the fragrant
silence a sound from her mother's room--the faint creak of her light
rocking chair. She could not sleep--she was sitting up with her trouble,
bearing it quietly as she had so many others.

The quiet everyday tragedy of that distasteful life--the slow withering
away of youth and hope and ambition into a gray waste of ineffectual
submissive labor--not only of her life, but of thousands upon thousands
like her--it all rose up like a flood in the girl's hot young heart.

Ross had turned to her--was holding out his arms to her. "You won't go,
my darling!" he said.

"I am going Wednesday on the 7.10," said Diantha.

CHAPTER IV. A CRYING NEED

"Lovest thou me?" said the Fair Ladye;
And the Lover he said, "Yea!"
"Then climb this tree--for my sake," said she,
"And climb it every day!"
So from dawn till dark he abrazed the bark
And wore his clothes away;
Till, "What has this tree to do with thee?"
The Lover at last did say.

It was a poor dinner. Cold in the first place, because Isabel would wait
to thoroughly wash her long artistic hands; and put on another dress.
She hated the smell of cooking in her garments; hated it worse on her
white fingers; and now to look at the graceful erect figure, the
round throat with the silver necklace about it, the soft smooth
hair, silver-filletted, the negative beauty of the dove-colored gown,
specially designed for home evenings, one would never dream she had set
the table so well--and cooked the steak so abominabl