led to her garden for this vigil she must keep, but the
extraordinary truth was that she did not dare be alone there. Her hands
gripped the sill, her eyes stared without seeing at the vaulted depths
above her. After a long time--hours--she rose and went to her door,
opened it without making a sound, and, listening till she had made sure
that the house was as silent as all houses should be at two in the
morning, she stole slowly along the upper hall. Presently she stood
outside the closed door of the guest who was sleeping under the roof for
the last time. With a fast-beating heart she noiselessly laid her hand
upon the panel of that door.

"You did steady me," she whispered. "I couldn't have done it if you
hadn't warned me--fortified me. Oh, what shall I do without you?"

Inside suddenly a footstep sounded, the footstep of a shod foot.
Instantly the girl was off down the hall like a frightened deer. In her
own room she stood with her hand upon her breast. "Up--at this hour!"
her startled consciousness was repeating. "Why? There was no light in
his room. Couldn't he sleep either? Why? Is _that_ what it means to him
to be a brother?"

In the morning Mr. Jefferson took his leave. His parting with Mr. Warne
was like that between father and son. When he came to Georgiana he
looked straight down into her eyes.

"Remember," he said, "that what I have told you of my wish to be of any
possible use to you and your father holds good, even though I should be
at the other side of the world. I shall write now and then to ask about
you both. I can't tell you how I hope for your happiness--Georgiana."

When he had gone she went to her room and dropped upon her knees beside
her bed, her arms outflung upon the old blue and white counterpane.

"O God," she whispered passionately, "how could You show it to me if I
couldn't have it? How _could_ You?"

CHAPTER XIX

REVELATIONS

Summer had gone at last, its fierce heat giving way to the cool, fresh
days of an early autumn. August, September, October--the months had
dragged interminably by, and now it was November, bleak and chill, with
gray skies and penetrating winds and sudden deluges of rain. Georgiana,
sweeping sodden leaves from a wet porch after an all-night storm, looked
up to see the village telegraph messenger approaching. With her one
dearest safe upon a couch within, and Stuart long since at home again,
she could not fear bad news. She thought of Jeannette, who wa