and the facts of her youth and good looks, and presumably marriageable estate, rendered it still more difficult. There was in the little

a crude blue sky, had been painted by some local artist, all unknown to fame, and long since at

gallant rearings of jaded steeds. Scarcely a night but it had been crowded by travellers who stayed overnight for the sake of the good beds and the good table and good bar. Now th

was in mortal terror of being arrested and taken to the county-seat at Newholm for violation of the liquor law. Albion, although a young and sturdy man not past his youth, was exceedingly afraid of everything. He was unmarried, and boarded at the hotel. There he was divided between

ng happens to your money, Albion," said Sidney, "I'll make it good, even if I have to sell my wine-cellar." Albion was afraid even to keep a revolver. His state of terror was pitiable, and the more so because he had a fear of betraying it, which was to some extent the most cruel fear of all. Sid

t for you, and welcome, Albion," he had said. "I under

ing and going," said Alb

ows I am as poor as Job's off ox. You might get a revolver, but I wouldn't recomme

lbion, although he did not quite see

He seldom, if ever, wakes up thoroughly if he hears a noise, and he's mighty apt to b

around the house. She doesn't sleep very well, and she's always smelling smoke or hearing burglars. Sh

world for him to understand. "That great, able-bodied man must feel mighty queer," he muttered, as he stowed away the pile of greasy bank-notes and the nickels collected at th

House and make both ends meet. She had very few regular boarders, and transients were not as numerous as they had been in the days of the stage-coaches. Now commercial travellers and business men went to Alford overnight instead of remaining at East Westland. Miss Hart used the same feat

st of the teacher's personality, a great respect for her position. She was inexorable even when the teacher proposed furnishing a spring-bed and mattress at her own expense. "I'd be willing to accommodate, and buy them myself, but it is

e eschewing of feather-beds. "Never heard of appendicitis in my father's time, when fo

he conviction that her own wakefulness and watchfulness was essential to the right running of all the wheels of the universe, although she would have been shocked had she fairly known

onest, although she had little to tempt him. She employed one chambermaid and a stable-boy, and did the cooking herself. Miss Hart was not a good cook. She used her thin, tense hands too quickly. She was prone to over-measures of saleratus, to under-measures of sugar and co

rfect from the hand of nature. Then, too, she was manifestly, in spite of her beauty, not in the first flush of youth, and had, it seemed, no right to such perfection of body. Also he

f superiority. It was as if East Westland said: "It is desirable to read of these things, of these doings among the vicious and the worldl

t. From the moment that Miss Farrel appeared in the village, although she had the best of references, not a woman would admit her into her house as a boarder, and the hotel, with its fea

s, but they did maintain it secretly. It did not seem possible to many of them that a woman could look just as Eliza Farrel did and be altogether natural. As for her character, they also

oft with a pristine softness and thickness which is always associated with the hair of a child. Her eyebrows were pencilled by nature, as if nature had been art. Her smile was as fixedly radiant as a painted cherub's. Her figure had that exubera

fine education, being a graduate of one of the women's colleges. She was an accomplished musician and a very successful teacher. Her pupils undoubtedly

btaining a good boarding-place, even with the mother of a marriageable daughter, who had taken her in with far-sighted alacrity. She dreamed of business calls concerning school matters, which Mr. Horace Allen, the p

rtain in the case of Eliza Farrel. She would not have admitted her under her roof at all had she not been forced thereto by the necessity for money. Miss Hart herself took care of Miss Farrel's room sometimes. She had no hesitation whatever in looking through her bureau drawers; indeed, she considered it a duty which she owed her

she did not hesitate about telling Hannah, her chambermaid, the daughter of a farmer in the vicinity, and a girl who was q

a thick, colorless skin, nodded

something on her face," said M

which was also on the wash-stand. "What do you suppo

" said Miss Hart, severely. "I dare say, after she puts the paint on, she has to use s

r chance, and stole into Miss Farrel's room, applied with trembling fingers a little of the nail-salve to her cheeks, then carefully rubbed it all off with the polisher. She then went to her own room, put

hat she was a beauty like Miss Eliza Farrel, and before she went home he had told her how pretty she was and asked her to marry him, and Hannah had consented, reserving the right to work enough long

" Miss Hart had asked, severely. "She can't wear it to meeting, or a Sunday-school picnic,

ht not be as white as Miss Farrel's, they were presumably as well shaped. She had resolved then and there to be married in a dress li

fool. Here you are getting good wages, and having it all to spend on yourself; and you ain't overworked, and you'll find out you'll be overworked and have a whole raft of young ones,

says he's the best match anywhere around," repl

," said she. "I hope you ain't going before fall, and leave

. As she sat beside her window, her own lamp not yet lit, she had seen a figure flit past in the misty moonlight, and she was sure it was Miss Farrel. She reflected quickly that it was Thursday evening, when Miss Hart always went to prayer-meeting. Hannah had a cold and had stayed at home, although it was her day off. Miss Hart cherished the belief that her voice was necessary to sustain the singing at any church meeting. She had, in her youth, possess

wall. "She must be gone," she thought, meaning Miss Hart. She was almost sure that the figure which she had seen flitting under her window in the moonlight was that of the school-teacher. Finally she could not resist the temptation any longer. She hurried down the corridor until she reached No. 20. She tapped and waited, then she tapped and waited again. There was no response. Hannah

the trail of lace. She was unspeakably happy. She had a lover, and she was a woman in a fine gown for the first time in her life. The gown was not her own, but she would have one like it. She did not realize that this gown was not hers. She was fairly radiant with the possession of her woman's birthright, this poor farmer's daug

reamed of her good housewifery; she dreamed of the butter she would make; she dreamed of her husband coming home to meals all ready and well cooked. She dreamed, underneath the other dreams, of children coming home. She had no realization of the time she sat there. At last she started and

nt and amusement in her tone, but nothing whatever d

ed something

own, Hannah?" she said. "It fits you very well. I see your hands are cle

od up. She

said Miss Farrel. "Only take off the gown an

te. She stepped out of the shimmering circle which it made; she was in her own costume in an incredibly short sp

e looked from one to the other. "It is

I am not quite well. Have you any digitalis in the house, Miss Hart? Hannah here does not know. I w

e the hard sound to the g, and she looked suspiciously at both women. H

e said to Miss Farrel: "I don't know what you mean by digitalis. I haven't got any, but I'll

She had sank into a chair, an

lowed her, but not before she and Miss Eliza Farrel had exchanged looks which