That which he had before wished was now coming to pass. By the irony of fate he was being forced in a direction which he had no inclination to travel. He thought of Lucy sleeping in the room over the rafters--of her dusky hair, red lips, closed eyes--eyes so bright that he had often called them his guiding stars; must he leave them, leave all those charms that belonged to him, which she gave him freely and without stint? "I'll go," he said suddenly, "I'll go, but I'll take Lucy with me." "Lucy'll stay where she is," replied the old woman sharply. Barbara strode forward, with a steady fire burning in her eyes, and an august lift of her head. She laid a firm hand on the young man's shoulder and made him look at her. "Joel Hart," she said, "is your love a true love?" "Before God, it is," he said solemnly. "And you seek her happiness?" "Above everything." "Above your own, Joel?" He did not answer for a moment. Barbara's glance, which never turned away from a sight until it had revealed all that she wanted to see, held him in a kind of mesmerism. Then he dropped his eyes; he could not lie in her face. "I meant her no harm, I meant no wrong," he said bitterly. "But she's all I've got in the world to love me." He would like to have spoken openly about his feelings, of his sense of Lucy's goodness and purity, of his readiness to die for her, of the glow she had shed upon his cold life. But he was tongue-tied, for Barbara had stripped his heart naked, and his own eyes condemned it. He longed to get away from this stern judge. There seemed to be nothing more left for him to do but go away. "You're both very kind," he said hoarsely. "You mustn't be hurt that I can't thank you as I ought to-night. Perhaps I shall some day. I see it's better that I should leave the dale; for Lucy's sake, if not for mine. She's safe for me, Barbara. I'll leave her free, and never ask for word or token unless I can marry her." Barbara unbarred the door, and he passed out. It was a clear night, the summer stars were shining but faintly, as the dawn was not far off. The girl was deeply moved. She could not know, it is true, that by forcing Joel to act in this way she was setting the seal to the tragedy of her own life. But she realised that the man was suffering, and that his sacrifice was a sacrifice indeed. Tears filled her eyes. "Joel," she whispered, "this is your chance; hold fast to it, set your feet firm."