ction that I had relieved their mind at the
expense of my own. Mother Jane in the kitchen at this late hour meant
business. What that business was, I seemed to know only too well.

I had formed a plan for the night which required some courage. Recalling
Lucetta's expression of the morning, that I might expect a repetition of
the former night's experiences, I prepared to profit by the warning in a
way she little meant. Satisfied that if there was any truth in the
suspicions I had formed, there would be an act performed in this house
to-night which, if seen by me, would forever settle the question
agitating the whole countryside, I made up my mind that no locked door
should interfere with my opportunity of doing so. How I effected this
result I will presently relate.

Lucetta had accompanied me to my door with a lighted candle.

"I hear you had some trouble with matches last night," said she. "You
will find them all right now. Hannah must be blamed for some of this
carelessness." Then as I began some reassuring reply, she turned upon me
with a look that was almost fond, and, throwing out her arms, cried
entreatingly: "Won't you give me a little kiss, Miss Butterworth? We
have not given you the best of welcomes, but you are my mother's old
friend, and sometimes I feel a little lonely."

I could easily believe that, and yet I found it hard to embrace her. Too
many shadows swam between Althea's children and myself. She saw my
hesitancy (a hesitancy I could not but have shown even at the risk of
losing her confidence), and, paling slightly, dropped her hands with a
pitiful smile.

"You don't like me," she said. "I do not wonder, but I was in hopes you
would for my mother's sake. I have no claims myself."

"You are an interesting girl, and you have, what your mother had not, a
serious side to your nature that is anything but displeasing to me. But
my kisses, Lucetta, are as rare as my tears. I had rather give you good
advice, and that is a fact. Perhaps it is as strong a proof of affection
as any ordinary caress would be."

"Perhaps," she assented, but she did not encourage me to give it to her
notwithstanding. Instead of that, she drew back and bade me a gentle
good-night, which for some reason made me sadder than I wished to be at
a crisis demanding so much nerve. Then she walked quickly away, and I
was left to face the night alone.

Knowing that I should be rather weakened than helped by the omission of
any of the