tward. Through the crack the sun poured, and oh, the fresh
sweetness of the morning air! Again she pushed, once again, and then with
a rush she dashed through and was a hundred feet down the path when a
loud laugh stayed her like a shot from a gun.

She turned and braced herself against a tree for support. Jerry-Jo,
pressed close to the house and not a foot from the door through which she
had come, again shrieked with laughter. Presently he conquered himself,
and, without moving, said:

"You're free! The canoe's ready for you, too. Go home--if you want--go
home and get what's coming to you! I've been busy. There's a boat
stopping at the wharf to-night. I'm leaving for the States. I've told
them, as will pass it on, that you and me are going together. I'll stand
by it, too, God hears me!"

"My--my father will kill you when he knows of this night!"

Priscilla flung the words back savagely. She knew now that she was
free--free for what? Again Jerry-Jo's laugh taunted her, and as she
turned to the path her father faded from her hope. Only Anton Farwell
seemed to loom high. Just and resourceful, he would help her!

The soggy, mossy path made heavy travelling for weary, nervous feet, but
at the foot of the hill Priscilla saw the little canoe bobbing at the
side of the dock. Once out upon the sunlit water the soul-horror
disappeared and the task before her appeared easy. Now that the real
danger was past, her physical demands seemed simple and well within her
control. If her father turned her away--and as she drew near to Lonely
Farm she felt that he probably would--she would go to Farwell, and from
him, with his assistance, go to the States. The time had come--that was
all--the time had come! She was as ready as she ever would be. She had
herself well in hand before she stepped from the canoe at the foot of her
father's garden.

The only signs of anxiety in evidence about the house were Nathaniel's
presence in the kitchen at eleven in the morning, and Theodora's red and
swollen eyes as she bent over the dishwashing of a belated breakfast.

"Mother! Father!"

They turned and gazed at the pale, dishevelled girl in the doorway.
Neither spoke and Priscilla asked:

"May I come in?"

Had she wept, or flung herself upon their mercy, Nathaniel could have
understood, but her very calmness and indifference angered him, coming as
it did upon his real anxiety. He had not heard the village gossip that
Long Jean had already sta