To leave Mary-Clare free to live whatever life held for her, without bitterness or regret, was all he asked. As for himself, Northrup had agreed to go back--he thought, as he plunged along, in Manly's terms--to his slit in the wall and keep valiantly to it in the future. But he, no matter what occurred, would always have a wider, purer vision; while Mary-Clare, the one who had made this possible, would----Oh! it was an unbearable thought. And just then a rustling in the bushes by the road brought him to a standstill. "Who's that?" he asked roughly. Jan-an came from behind a clump of sumach. A black shawl over her head and falling to her feet made her seem part of the darkness. Northrup turned his flashlight upon her and only her vague white face was visible. "What's up?" he asked, as Jan-an came nearer. The girl no longer repelled him--he had seen behind her mask, had known her faithfulness and devotion to them he must leave forever. Northrup was still young enough to believe in that word--forever. Jan-an came close. "Say, there's a queer lot to the inn. They're after you!" Northrup started. "What do you mean?" he asked. "A toot cart with an image setting up the front--and a dressy piece in the glass cage behind." So vivid was the picture that Jan-an portrayed that Northrup did not need to question. "Lord! but she was togged out," Jan-an went on, "but seemed like I felt she had black wings hid underneath." Poor Jan-an's flights of fancy always left her muddled. "If you want that I should tell her anything while you light out----" Northrup laughed. "There, there, Jan-an," he comforted. "Why, this is all right. You wanted me to know, in case--oh! but you're a good sort! But see here, everything is safe and sound and"--Northrup paused, then suddenly--"to-morrow, Jan-an, I want you to go to--to Mary-Clare and tell her I left--good-bye for her and Noreen." "Yer--yer going away?" Jan-an writhed under the flashlight. "Yes, Jan-an." "Why----" The girl burst into tears. Northrup tried to comfort her. "I've been so stirred," the girl sobbed. "I had feelin's----" "So have I, Jan-an. So have I." They stood in the dark for a moment and then, because there was nothing more to say--Northrup went to meet Kathryn Morris. He went in at one of the end doors, not the middle one, and so disturbed Kathryn's stage setting. He opened and closed the door so quietly, walked over to the fire so rapidly, that to rise and carry out her programme was out of the question, so Kathryn remained on the hearth and Northrup dropped into the chair beside her. "Well, little girl," he said--people always lowered their voices when speaking to Kathryn--"what is it?" Northrup was braced for bad news. Of course Manly had given his address to Kathryn--it was something beyond the realm of letters and telegrams that had occurred; Kathryn had been sent! That Manly was not prime mover in this matter could not occur to Northrup. "Is it Mother?" he whispered.