lf interiorly detached
from him. But now that there was something definite to look to, her
sensitiveness vanished.

As to what that something was, she did not trust herself to decide.
Father Mahon had given her a point to work at--the fact that the
thing, as a serious pursuit, was forbidden; as to what the reality
behind was, whether indeed there were any reality at all, she did not
allow herself to consider. Laurie was in a state of nerves
sufficiently troublesome to bring a letter from his friend and guide;
and he was in that state through playing tricks on forbidden ground;
that was enough.

Her interview with Father Mahon precipitated her half-formed
resolution; and after tea she went upstairs to write to Mr. Cathcart.

It was an unconventional thing to do, but she was sufficiently
perturbed to disregard that drawback, and she wrote a very sensible
letter, explaining first who she was; then, without any names being
mentioned, she described her adopted brother's position, and indicated
his experiences: she occupied the last page in asking two or three
questions, and begging for general advice.

* * * * *

Mrs. Baxter displayed some symptoms after dinner which the girl
recognized well enough. They comprised a resolute avoidance of
Laurie's name, a funny stiff little air of dignity, and a touch of
patronage. And the interpretation of these things was that the old
lady did not wish the subject to be mentioned again, and that,
interiorly, she was doing her best ignore and forget it. Maggie felt,
again, vaguely comforted; it left her a freer hand.

* * * * *

She lay awake a long time that night.

Her room was a little square one on the top of the stairs, above the
smoking-room where she had that odd scene with Laurie a month or so
before, and looking out upon the yew walk that led to the orchard. It
was a cheerful little place enough, papered in brown, hung all over
with water colors, with her bed in one corner; and it looked a
reassuring familiar kind of place in the firelight, as she lay
open-eyed and thinking.

It was not that she was at all frightened; it was no more than a
little natural anxiety; and half a dozen times in the hour or two that
she lay thinking, she turned resolutely over in bed, dismissed the
little pictures that her mind formed in spite of herself, and began to
think of pleasant, sane subjects.

But the images recurred. They