for twenty years in the firm conviction that she
would die in the poorhouse--as, indeed, seemed not unlikely--before she
would ask a favour of Andrew Cameron. And so, in truth, she would have,
had it been for herself. But for Sylvia! Could she so far humble herself
for Sylvia's sake?

The question was not easily or speedily settled, as had been the case in
the matters of the grape jug and the book of poems. For a whole week
the Old Lady fought her pride and bitterness. Sometimes, in the hours
of sleepless night, when all human resentments and rancours seemed petty
and contemptible, she thought she had conquered it. But in the daytime,
with the picture of her father looking down at her from the wall,
and the rustle of her unfashionable dresses, worn because of Andrew
Cameron's double dealing, in her ears, it got the better of her again.

But the Old Lady's love for Sylvia had grown so strong and deep and
tender that no other feeling could endure finally against it. Love is
a great miracle worker; and never had its power been more strongly made
manifest than on the cold, dull autumn morning when the Old Lady walked
to Bright River railway station and took the train to Charlottetown,
bent on an errand the very thought of which turned her soul sick within
her. The station master who sold her her ticket thought Old Lady Lloyd
looked uncommonly white and peaked--"as if she hadn't slept a wink
or eaten a bite for a week," he told his wife at dinner time. "Guess
there's something wrong in her business affairs. This is the second time
she's gone to town this summer."

When the Old Lady reached the town, she ate her slender little lunch and
then walked out to the suburb where the Cameron factories and warehouses
were. It was a long walk for her, but she could not afford to drive. She
felt very tired when she was shown into the shining, luxurious office
where Andrew Cameron sat at his desk.

After the first startled glance of surprise, he came forward beamingly,
with outstretched hand.

"Why, Cousin Margaret! This is a pleasant surprise. Sit down--allow me,
this is a much more comfortable chair. Did you come in this morning? And
how is everybody out in Spencervale?"

The Old Lady had flushed at his first words. To hear the name by which
her father and mother and lover had called her on Andrew Cameron's lips
seemed like profanation. But, she told herself, the time was past for
squeamishness. If she could ask a favour of Andr