er self-control
completely; unthinkable that any mother could become so strident in her
selfish agony of pity for her stricken son, when she could so much
better be holding herself and him quite steady by her brave acceptance
of untoward fortune. But then, Mrs. Opdyke was an older woman, and of
more feminine mould. Besides, she had had an eighteen-month-long
strain, and, moreover, she was Reed's mother, while she herself, Olive,
was nothing but a rank outsider, and consequently callous. She did her
best to dismiss her longing to smite the wailing Mrs. Opdyke; but the
blue ring once more settled about her lips, as she went slowly up the
stairs.

In Reed's room everything was curiously unchanged, curiously unlike the
spiritual chaos below stairs. The September sunshine came sifting in
through the tree tops to dapple with level spots of light the silky
surface of the rug; the soft breeze stirred the curtains and then
passed on to ruffle the curly mop of bright brown hair that gleamed
like polished chestnuts in the sun. After the excitement and the
tragedy of the lower rooms, this place seemed as quiet as a sanctuary;
and Reed's face matched the quiet, as he turned his eyes to Olive.

"I suppose you know it, too," he said quite steadily. "I wanted to tell
you, myself; but I couldn't seem to brace myself to the actual putting
it into words. No; don't go to spilling any tears, Olive; it is too
late for that. In fact," and then, just for a moment, the hand
outstretched on the rug shut till the nails bit into the softness of
the palm; "there is a certain relief in having it out and over, and all
settled. We both of us have known we were facing the chance of it. Now
we know the worst, and can take it as it comes."

Despite the little quiver of his voice upon the final words, there was
a curious peace in his face, the light like nothing else on land and
sea. Olive watched it, for a minute, through the blinding, burning
tears. Then, forgetful of her promise to her father, she flung herself
down on her knees beside the couch, and fell to sobbing like a little
child.

She steadied herself soon, however; but not until, with a greater
effort than she ever knew, Reed stretched out his arm to its fullest
reach and laid his hand upon her cheek, her hair.

"Yes, Olive," he said, very low. "I am glad it hurts you just a little.
I wanted you to care."

Then sharply he withdrew his hand and put it out of sight beneath the
rug. When o