“Ef he _kin_, honey, ef he _kin!_” Linda moaned. “'God been behind 'im all thoo so fur, but I seed de time when de Lawd Hisse'f seem ter turn His back on folks tryin' ter do dey level best.” Leaving Linda muttering and moaning in the cottage doorway, the girl went with a despondent step back to the big empty house and wandered aimlessly about the various rooms. As night came on and her father returned from town, she met him on the veranda and gave him a kiss of greeting, but she soon discovered that he had heard nothing. In fact, he was one of the many who still believed that Pete had been lynched, the vague whisperings to the contrary not having reached his old ears. She sat with him at the tea-table, and then went up to her room and lighted her lamp on her bureau. As she did so she looked at her reflection in the mirror and started at the sight of her grave features. Then a flash from her wrist caught her eye. It was the big diamond of a beautiful bracelet which Sanders had given her, and as she looked at it she shuddered. Was she superstitious? She hardly knew, and yet a strange idea took possession of her brain. Would her unspoken prayers for Carson Dwight's safety in his perilous expedition be answered while she wore that gift from another man, after she had spurned Carson's great and lasting love, and allowed the poor boy to think that she had given herself heart and soul to this stranger? She hesitated only a moment, and opening a jewel box she unclasped the bracelet and put it away. Then with a certain lightness of heart she went to the window overlooking the grounds of the Dwight homestead and stood there staring out in the hope of seeing Carson. But he was evidently not at home, for no lights were visible except a dim one in the invalid's room and one in old Dwight's chamber adjoining. At ten o'clock Helen disrobed herself still with that awful sense of impending tragedy hovering over her. The oil in her lamp was almost out, and for this reason only she extinguished the flame, else she would have kept it burning through the night to dissipate the material shadows which seemed to accentuate those of her spirit. She heard the old grandfather clock on the stair-landing below solemnly strike ten, then the monotonous tick-tack as the great pendulum swung to and fro. Sleep was out of the question. A few minutes before eleven she heard a soft foot-fall on the walk in the front garden, and going out on the veranda she looked down. The bowed form of a woman was moving restlessly back and forth from the steps to the gate. “Is that you, mammy?” Helen asked, softly. The handkerchiefed head was lifted and Linda looked up.