d man--Northrup
gruesomely termed himself that--what the dead man could not do for
himself. Surely no one, not even Rivers, would deny him that poor
comfort, if all were known. He would write a note to Mary-Clare, go
early in the morning to that cabin on the hill and leave it--where her
eye would fall upon it when she entered.

That the cabin was sacred to Mary-Clare he very well knew; that she
shared it with no one, he also knew; but she would forgive his
trespassing, since it was his only way in honour out--out of her
life.

Very well, then! At nine-thirty he decided to go over to the Point
again and, if he found Larry, finish that business. If Larry were not
there, he would lie in wait for him and gain his ends. So he prepared
for another night away from the inn, if necessary.

Aunt Polly, hovering on the outskirts of all that was going on,
materialized, as he was about leaving the house like a thief of the
night.

"Now, son, must you go out?" she pleaded, her spectacles awry on the
top of her head, her eyes unnaturally bright.

"Yes, Aunt Polly." Northrup paused, the knob of the door in hand, and
looked down at the little creature.

"Is it fair, son?" Aunt Polly was savagely thinking of the gossip of
the Forest--she wildly believed that Northrup might be going to the
yellow house. The hurry of departure might blind him to folly.

"Fair--fair to whom, Aunt Polly?" Northrup's brows drew together.

"To yourself, son. Bad news and the sudden going away----" the old
voice choked. It was hard to use an enemy's weapon against one's own,
even to save him.

"Aunt Polly, look at me." This was spoken sternly.

"I _am_ looking, son, I am looking." And so she was.

"I'm going out, because I must, if I am to do my duty by others. You
must trust me. And I want you to know that all my future life will be
the stronger, the safer, because of my weeks here with you all! I came
to you with no purpose--just a tired, half-sick man, but things were
taken out of my hands. I've been used, and I don't know myself just
yet for what. I'm going to have faith and you must have it--I'm with
you, not against you. Will you kiss me, Aunt Polly?"

From his height Northrup bent to Polly's littleness, but she reached
up to him with her frail tender arms and seemed to gather him into her
denied motherhood. Without a word she kissed him and--let him go!

Northrup found Rivers in his shack. He looked as if he had been
sitting where Northr