compelled to endure. Then suddenly there flashed across her mind
the card given to Will by Ulfar's friend. She was not too simple to
conceive of its meaning. It was a defiance of some kind, and she knew
how Will would answer it. Her heart stood still with terror.

She had seen Will and Ulfar wrestling; she had heard Will say to
Brune, when Ulfar was absent, "He knows little about it; when I had
that last grip, I could have flung him into eternity." It was common
enough for dalesmen quarrelling to have a "fling" with one another and
stand by its results. If Will and Ulfar met thus, one or both would be
irremediably injured. In their relation to her, both were equally
dear. She would have given her poor little life cheerfully for the
love of either. Her cup shook in her hand. She had a sense of hurry in
the matter, that drove her like a leaf before a strong wind. If Will
got to bed before she saw him, he might be away in the morning ere she
was aware. She put down her cup, and while she stood a moment to
collect her strength and thoughts, the subject on all its sides
flashed clearly before her.

A minute afterward she opened the parlour door. Brune sat bent
forward, with a poker in his hands. He was tracing a woman's name in
the ashes, though he was hardly conscious of the act. Will's head was
thrown back against his chair; he seemed to be asleep. But when
Aspatria opened the door, he sat upright and looked at her. A pallor
like death spread over his face; it was the crimson shawl, his
mother's shawl, which caused it. Wearing it, Aspatria closely
resembled her. Will had idolized his mother in life, and he worshipped
her memory. If Aspatria had considered every earthly way of touching
Will's heart, she could have selected none so certain as the shawl,
almost accidentally assumed.

She went direct to Will. He drew a low stool to his side, and Aspatria
sat down upon it, and then stretched out her left hand to Brune. The
two men looked at their sister, and then they looked at each other.
The look was a vow. Both so understood it.

"Will and Brune," the girl spoke softly, but with a great
steadiness,--"Will and Brune, I am sorry to have given you so much
shame and trouble."

"It is not your fault, Aspatria," said Brune.

"But I will do so no more. I will never name Ulfar again. I will try
to be cheerful and to make home cheerful, try to carry on life as it
used to be before he came. We will not let people talk of him, w