she said; "please, Uncle John,
don't ask me any more. I have hurt your honour; it must be me that you
punish. I am going away to-morrow, let me go out of your life
altogether. I shall not make any attempt to come back."

"You are going to him?" he questioned. "Before God, if you do that I
will find you out and----"

"No," she interrupted, "you need not be afraid; I am not going back to
him."

With her hand on the door she heard him order her to come back as he had
not finished what he had to say, and she stayed where she was, not
turning again to look at him.

"You are being stubborn in your sin." How strange the words sounded from
Uncle John, who had never said a cross word to her in his life. "Very
well, then, there is nothing for us to do except, as you say, to try and
forget that we have ever loved you. When you go out of our house
to-morrow it shall be the end. Your aunt is with me in this. But you
shall have money; it shall be paid to you regularly through my
solicitor, and to-night I am writing to him to tell him to render you
every assistance he can. You can go there whenever you are in need of
help. Miss Abercrombie has also promised your aunt, I believe, to do
what she can for you."

"I would rather not take any money from you," whispered Joan; "I will be
able to earn enough to keep myself."

"When you are doing that," he answered grimly, "you may communicate with
the solicitor and he will put the money aside for such time as you may
need it. But until then you owe it to us to use our money in preference
to what could only be given to you in charity or disgrace."

She waited in silence for some minutes after his last words. If she
could have run to him then and cried out her fear and dismay and regret,
perhaps some peace might have been achieved between them which would
have helped to smooth out the tangle of their lives. But Joan was
hopelessly dumb. She had gone into her escapade with light laughter on
her lips, now she was paying the cost. One cannot take the world and
readjust it to one's own beliefs. That was the lesson she was to learn
through loneliness and tears. This breaking of home ties was only the
first step in the lesson.

She stole out of his presence at last and up to her own room. Her
packing was all finished, she had dismantled the walls of her pictures,
the tables of her books. Everything she possessed had been given to her
by either Uncle John or Aunt Janet. Christmas presents, E