ore her eyes.

"Dear Madam, Permit me to thank you in the name of the Trustees of
the Grenoble Hospital for your generous contribution, and believe
me, Sincerely yours,

"MARIA W. SIMPSON."

The sheet fluttered to the floor.

When Sunday came, for the first time her courage failed her. She had
heard the wind complaining in the night, and the day dawned wild and wet.
She got so far as to put on a hat and veil and waterproof coat; Starling
had opened the doors, and through the frame of the doorway, on the wet
steps, she saw the footman in his long mackintosh, his umbrella raised to
escort her to the carriage. Then she halted, irresolute. The impassive
old butler stood on the sill, a silent witness, she knew, to the struggle
going on within her. It seemed ridiculous indeed to play out the comedy
with him, who could have recited the lines. And yet she turned to him.

"Starling, you may send the coachman back to the stable."

"Very good, madam."

As she climbed the stairs she saw him gravely closing the doors. She
paused on the landing, her sense of relief overborne by a greater sense
of defeat. There was still time! She heard the wheels of the carriage on
the circle--yet she listened to them die away. Starling softly caught the
latch, and glanced up. For an instant their looks crossed, and she
hurried on with palpitating breast, reached her boudoir, and closed the
door. The walls seemed to frown on her, and she remembered that the
sitting-room in St. Louis had worn that same look when, as a child, she
had feigned illness in order to miss a day at school. With a leaden heart
she gazed out on the waste of melting snow, and then tried in vain to
read a novel that a review had declared amusing. But a question always
came between her and the pages: was this the turning point of that silent
but terrible struggle, when she must acknowledge to herself that the
world had been too strong for her? After a while her loneliness became
unbearable. Chiltern was in the library.

"Home from church?" he inquired.

"I didn't go, Hugh."

He looked up in surprise.

"Why, I thought I saw you start," he said.

"It's such a dreary day, Hugh."

"But that has never prevented you before."

"Don't you think I'm entitled to one holiday?" she asked.

But it was by a supreme effort she kept back the tears. He looked at her
attentively, and got up suddenly and put his hands upon her shoulders.
She could not me