After a pause the Rose Cold spoke in a more serious tone. "Well, I taig off my had to him. It's a big thig, thad zord of gourage." "I should say! And he knows himself there isn't one chance in a hundred of his ever touching this little earth again." Here the attention of both men was drawn to the girl in front of them, who suddenly started from her seat--with both hands pressed hard against her face. She stood for a moment as if in pain, or under some mental disturbance. Then, sinking back into her seat, she appeared to be looking quietly out of the window during the short remainder of the journey. Although her action caused them no further interest, nor curiosity, it served to divert their talk from Cyrus Alton--a subject apparently exhausted--to other matters of no interest to Ruth Heywood. [Illustration] XX ANOTHER MESSAGE When Ruth left the train and took the stage for Longfields her spirit was in revolt--in revolt against herself, against Cyrus and against the progress of the vehicle. But any vehicle, however fast, would have been too slow on that afternoon. She left the conveyance at Cyrus Alton's driveway. This was her first visit to the Alton's home since her sudden departure, so many years ago. And now, as she walked toward the house, almost every foot of ground, every object in the spacious yard, the old maples and the house itself, seemed accusing her of treason and of heartless murder. From every side, however, came pleasant memories of bygone days,--like flowers in a forsaken garden. And all of Cyrus! Never was a yard so full of history. And now that Cyrus was gone--gone forever, driven from the world by her own cruelty,--her over sensitive spirit writhed beneath the stings of conscience. Every recollection seemed to increase her guilt. Hardest to bear, in all this vista of the past, was the clear, undying fact that the cherubic, sleepy eyed little boy always stood between herself and trouble.