And because the mother was afraid she might say too much she assented, and

held her peace. It was the first time in years that George had called a

girl beautiful.

Meantime Elizabeth had gone to her own room and locked the door. She

hardly knew what to think, her heart was so happy. Yet beneath it all was

the troubled thought of the lady, the haunting lady for whom they had

prayed together on the prairie. And as if to add to the thought she found

a bit of newspaper lying on the floor beside her dressing-table. Marie

must have dropped it as she came in to turn up the lights. It was nothing

but the corner torn from a newspaper, and should be consigned to the

waste-basket; yet her eye caught the words in large head-lines as she

picked it up idly, "Miss Geraldine Loring's Wedding to Be an Elaborate

Affair." There was nothing more readable. The paper was torn in a zigzag

line just beneath. Yet that was enough. It reminded her of her duty.

Down beside the bed she knelt, and prayed: "O my Father, hide me now; hide

me! I am in trouble; hide me!" Over and over she prayed till her heart

grew calm and she could think.

Then she sat down quietly, and put the matter before her.

This man whom she loved with her whole soul was to be married in a few

days. The world of society would be at the wedding. He was pledged to

another, and he was not hers. Yet he was her old friend, and was coming to

see her. If he came and looked into her face with those clear eyes of his,

he might read in hers that she loved him. How dreadful that would be!

Yes, she must search yet deeper. She had heard the glad ring in his voice

when he met her, and said, "Elizabeth!" She had seen his eyes. He was in

danger himself. She knew it; she might not hide it from herself. She must

help him to be true to the woman to whom he was pledged, whom now he would

have to marry.

She must go away from it all. She would run away, now at once. It seemed

that she was always running away from some one. She would go back to the

mountains where she had started. She was not afraid now of the man from

whom she had fled. Culture and education had done their work. Religion had

set her upon a rock. She could go back with the protection that her money

would put about her, with the companionship of some good, elderly woman,

and be safe from harm in that way; but she could not stay here and meet

George Benedict in the morning, nor face Geraldine Loring on her

wedding-day. It would be all the same the facing whether she were in the

wedding-party or not. Her days of mourning for her grandmother would of

course protect her from this public facing. It was the thought she could

not bear. She must get away from it all forever.




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