rough her bowers the wind's way still is clear."

"Oh!" breathed Rosemary, with her hands tightly clenched. "Dear God,
have pity!"

Heedlessly, Alden went on:

"But April's sun strikes down the glades to-day;
So shut your eyes upturned, and feel my kiss
Creep, as the Spring now thrills through every spray,
Up your warm throat to your warm lips; for this----"

He dropped the book, lifted Edith's chin and kissed her throat, then her
mouth. She laid her hand upon his face. "Dear and lonely and
hungry-hearted," she said; "how long you wanted me!"

"Yes," he murmured, "but I've found you now!"

How long they sat there, Rosemary never knew, for her senses were
dulled. She did not hear their preparations for departure, but saw the
boat swinging out into the current, with the sunset making golden glory
of the river and of Edith's hair. When the sound of the oars ceased, she
rose, numb and cold, and came out into the open space. She steadied
herself for a moment upon the rock against which they had leaned.

[Sidenote: Another Thought]

"Service," she said to herself, "and sacrifice. Giving, and not
receiving. Asking--not answer." Yet she saw that, even now, this could
be neither sacrifice nor denial, because it was something she had never
had.

She laughed, a trifle bitterly, and went on home, another thought
keeping time with her footsteps. "The appointed thing comes at the
appointed time in the appointed way. There is no terror save my own
fear."

XVII

The Last Tryst

[Sidenote: A Double Self]

The shrill voices in the sitting-room rose higher and higher. Since the
day Grandmother had read the article upon "Woman's Birthright" to
Matilda, the subject of Mrs. Lee's hair had, as it were, been drowned in
cucumber milk. When Rosemary came in from the kitchen, they appealed to
her by common consent.

"Rosemary, have you ever heard of anybody taking a stool and a pail and
goin' out to milk the cucumbers before breakfast?" This from Aunt
Matilda.

"Rosemary, ain't you seen the juice of wild cucumbers when they spit
their seeds out and ain't it just like milk, only some thicker?" This
from Grandmother.

"I don't know," Rosemary answered, mechanically. The queer sense of a
double self persisted. One of her was calm and content, the other was
rebellious--and hurt.

"Humph!" snorted Grandmother.

"Humph!" echoed Aunt Matilda

[Sidenote: Going for the Paper]

"It's Thursday," Gran