ed the
roses into the sunshine outside. "You are right," he said. "I can afford
to wait--now!" And, with a quick salutation, he pulled his hat down over
his brows and walked away.

Telano drove Margaret up the water-road to Gracias. It was late in the
afternoon when she reached the rectory; Dr. Kirby was watching for her,
he came down to the gate to meet her.

"She has gone to her room," he said; "we have persuaded her to go and
lie down for a while, as she has done nothing but cry since first seeing
the Moores.--I am afraid it will be even worse when she sees you," he
added, as they went up the path.

Crossing the veranda, he stopped with his hand on the door, looking at
his companion for a moment before entering.

There was no one in the world whom the Doctor now admired so much as he
admired Margaret Harold; for the past two years he had secretly given
her his unswerving help and support. He thought hers, among women, the
most courageous and noble nature he had ever known. And the sweetest,
also--ah, yes, in its hidden depths, overwhelmingly, enchantingly sweet!
The delicacy of her physical constitution, too (and she did not grow
stronger), her nearness to breaking down at times--these things had
endeared her to the Doctor greatly; for it touched him to see, month
after month, her fair youthfulness growing a little less youthful, her
sweet face more faint in color, while at the same time, hour by hour, he
saw her perform her full task so completely, in all its details as well
as its broader outlines. He knew that she constantly suffered, and that
it must be so. With his own eyes he saw how she endured. As a physician,
if nothing else, he was aware how infrequent is quiet effort, maintained
evenly, day after day, in a sex which can upon occasion perform single
actions that rise to the height of the superhuman, and are far beyond
the endeavors of any man. But here was a woman capable of the steady
effort; it was not merely that she had remained with her husband, had
allowed him to take possession again of her life and her home; she had
made this home as pleasant to him and to Aunt Katrina as so quiet a
place could be made to two such persons. She never secluded herself, she
was always ready to talk, she brought others to amuse them; she read
aloud, she played backgammon and checkers, she tied the ends of the fish
nets and kept an account of them. She accepted and acted upon all
Lanse's suggestions regarding her dre