ore to pay--there was Maclin. Do you know about Maclin?"

"Yes. It was damnable. We all scented the evil, but we're not the sort
of people to believe such deviltry until it's forced upon us."

"It frightened us all terribly," Mary-Clare's voice would always hold
fear when she spoke of Maclin. "I do not know what would have happened
to the Forest if--a Mrs. Dana had not come just when things were at
the worst."

There are occurrences in life that seem always to have been half
known. Their acceptance causes no violent shock. As Mary-Clare
spoke that name, Northrup for a moment paused, repeated it a bit
dazedly, and, as if a curtain had been withdrawn, he saw the broad,
illuminating truth! "You have heard of Mrs. Dana?" Mary-Clare
asked. That Northrup knew so much did not surprise her.

"Yes, of course! And it would be like her to drop in at the
psychological moment."

"She set us to work!" Mary-Clare went on. "She is the most wonderful
woman I ever knew."

"She must be!"

Slower and slower the two walked down the trail. They were clutching
the few golden moments.

It was quite dark when they came to the yellow house. The door was
wide open, the heart of the little home lay bare to the passer-by.

Jan-an was on her knees by the hearth, puffing to life the kindlings
she had lighted. Larry's chair was drawn close and upon its arm Noreen
was perched.

"They always leave it so for me," Mary-Clare whispered. "You see how
everything is?"

"Yes, I see, Mary-Clare."

Northrup reached forth and drew the small clasped hands into his
own!--then he bent and kissed them.

"I see, I see."

"And you will come in? Larry loves company."

"Not to-night, Mary-Clare, but to-morrow. I am going to stay at the
inn for a few days."

"Oh! I am glad!" Almost the brave voice broke.

"There is something else I see, my dear," Northrup ignored the poor
disguise for a moment. "I see the meaning of _you_ as I never saw it
before. You have never broken faith! That is above all else--it is all
else."

"I have tried." Upon the clasped hands tears fell, but Northrup caught
the note of joy in her grieving voice.

"You have carried on what your doctor entrusted to you."

"Oh! thank you, bless you for saying that."

"Good-night." Northrup released the cold hands--they clung for a
moment in a weak, human way. "There is to-morrow, you know," he
whispered.

Alone, a little later, on the road, Northrup experienced that strange
feelin