When her duties were over and the children playing on the green, Jean took her sewing and joined Gilbert in the living room. He was walking restlessly up and down, with nervous, flashing eyes that eagerly searched the road, as he passed and repassed the small window. His restless pacing, his look of hopeful anxiety smote Jean to the heart, for she had been bitterly resentful, and was still in a measure, against Gilbert’s selfishness in thinking only of his own extremity. It didn’t seem right or just that he should be here with outstretched hands, waiting to take the money that meant so much to their own struggling family at the present time, and without which she could only foresee grim want staring them all in the face—and she had to struggle with the desire that rushed over her to rise up and tell him of their bitter plight, to bid him go elsewhere for assistance; but the fear of Robert’s anger kept her silent. Then, too, she suddenly remembered that they had both kept their poverty and Robert’s continued ill luck and failures from the home folk, and it was only to be expected that Gilbert would naturally turn to his prosperous brother for assistance. “Prosperous, indeed! If he but knew,” and she sighed deeply, for her mother’s heart felt sore depressed as she thought of her own loved ones. They did not talk much. Each was too busy with his own gloomy thoughts. In fancy, Gilbert could see Squire Armour at Mossgiel Farm, ordering out his mother and sister, watching them with sinister eyes as they got together their meager belongings, and then when they, with streaming eyes, had carried out the last piece of furniture and stood gazing at the home that was no longer theirs, the cruel landlord had heartlessly laughed at their sorrow and, locking the door, had ridden away with the keys in his pocket, leaving them standing there not knowing whither to go nor where to find food or shelter. “O God! Not that! Not that!” he cried aloud, pausing in his walk with clenched hands, pale and wild-eyed. Jean looked up from her work in startled alarm. “Gilbert!” she cried. “What is it?” With a little mirthless laugh, he told her of the vision he had had, told of his fears for the safety of his home and the welfare of his loved ones. She listened with a feeling of shame at her heart and a flush of angry humiliation mantling her pale cheek. “’Fore Heaven, it makes me feel like cursing even the memory of my father,” she exclaimed bitterly with a flash of her old-time imperiousness. “But be not alarmed, Gilbert,” she continued with an encouraging smile. “Your mother is a match even for my father, and I’ll warrant she’ll not let him set his foot inside the threshold till you return.” His face brightened. “I had indeed forgot my mother’s independent, courageous spirit,” he replied with a sigh of relief and hopefulness.