He went along the ridgy cart-path across the field to the road, but when he reached it he stopped short. He stood for ten minutes or more, motionless, thinking so intently that it was as if his body stood aside from his swift thought, then he returned to the Judd house. He went around to the back door, but when he reached it he stopped again. After a little he crept noiselessly back to the cart-path, and so to the road again. But it was as if, when he reached the road, he met some unseen and mighty arm of denial which barred it. He stopped there for the second time. Then he went back again to the Judd house, and this time when he reached the door he opened it and went in. When he entered the sitting-room, where Adoniram and Paulina Maria and Henry were, they all looked up in astonishment. "Forgot anything?" inquired Adoniram. "Yes," replied Jerome. Then he went on, speaking fast, in a strained voice, which he tried hard to make casual. "There was something I wanted to say. I've been thinking about Henry's eyes. If--you want to take him to Boston, to that doctor, I've got the money. I've got five hundred dollars you're welcome to. I believe you said it would take that." He looked straight at Paulina Maria as he spoke, and she dropped her work and looked at him. Adoniram made a faint, gasping noise, then sat staring at them both. Henry started, but knitted on as remorselessly as his own fate. "How did you come by so much money?" asked Paulina Maria, in her pure, severe voice. "I saved if from my earnings." "What for?" "You'll be welcome to take it, and use it for Henry." "That ain't answering my question." Jerome was silent. "You needn't answer if you don't want to," said Paulina Maria, "for I know. You've kept it dark from everybody but Lawyer Means and your mother and Elmira, but your mother told me a year ago. I haven't told a soul. You've been saving up this money to build a mill with and--I've been over to your mother's this afternoon--you are going to start it to-morrow." "I am not obliged to start it to-morrow," said Jerome. "You're obliged to for all me. Do you think I'll take that money?" Jerome turned to Henry. "Henry, it's for you, and not your mother," said he. "Will you take it?" Henry, still knitting, shook his head. "I tell you there is no hurry about the mill. I can wait and earn more. I give it to you freely." "We shouldn't take it unless I give you a note of hand, Jerome," Adoniram interposed, in a quavering voice. Paulina Maria looked at her husband. "What is your note of hand worth?" she asked, sternly. "Won't you take it, Henry? I've always thought a good deal of you, and I don't want you to be blind," Jerome said. Henry shook his head; there was an awful inexorableness with himself displayed in his steady knitting.