ver bristled. I'm trying to kill something more
terrifying. And I shall if I live."

"You poor, brave little martyr!" whispered Kathleen, her violet eyes
filled with sudden tears; "don't you suppose I know what you are doing?
Don't you suppose I watch and pray----"

"Did _you_ know I was really trying?" asked the girl, astonished--"I
mean before I told you?"

"Know it! Angels above! Of course I know it. Don't you suppose I've been
watching you slowly winning back to your old dear self--tired,
weary-footed, desolate, almost hopeless, yet always surely finding your
way back through the dreadful twilight to the dear, sweet, generous self
that I know so well--the straightforward, innocent, brave little self
that grew at my knee!--Geraldine--Geraldine, my own dear child!"

"Hush--I did not know you knew. I am trying. Once I failed. That was not
very long ago, either. Oh, Kathleen, I am trying so hard, so hard! And
to-day has been a dreadful day for me. That is why I went off by myself;
I paddled until I was ready to drop into the lake; and the fright that
the boar gave me almost ended me; but it could not end desire!... So I
took a rifle--anything to interest me--keep me on my feet and moving
somewhere--doing something--anything--anything, Kathleen--until I can
crush it out of me--until there's a chance that I can sleep----"

"I know--I know! That is why I dared not remonstrate when I saw you
drifting again toward your old affectionate relations with Scott. I'm
afraid of animals--except what few Scott has persuaded me to
tolerate--butterflies and frogs and things. But if anything on earth is
going to interest you--take your mind off yourself--and bring you and
Scott any nearer together, I shall not utter one word against it--even
when it puts you in physical danger and frightens me. Do you
understand?"

The girl nodded, turned and kissed her. They were following a path made
by game; Scott was out of sight ahead somewhere; they could hear his
boots crashing through the underbrush. After a while the sound died away
in the forest.

"The main thing," said Geraldine, "is to keep up my interest in the
world. I want to do things. To sit idle is pure destruction to me. I
write to Duane every morning, I read, I do a dozen things that require
my attention--little duties that everybody has. But I can't continue to
write to Duane all day. I can't read all day; duties are soon ended.
And, Kathleen, it's the idle intervals I dread