But what humiliated her most of all was that she had let Jo see the truth! All the fine courage that had borne her from the Walled House to Point of Pines; where was it? She had meant to make up to poor Jo for the bitter wrong that was a hideous secret between them, and all the time there had been the longing for release; the expectation of it. "I am like my father," shuddered the girl, "just as that awful Pierre said—only I did not run away." With this slight comfort she began her readjustment, but her hope was dead. She struggled to forget that it had ever existed, and she put her violin away. This hurt Jo cruelly, but she did not speak. Instead she wrote, in her queer, cramped handwriting, to Anderson Law. It was a stilted, independent letter, for poor Jo was struggling between the dread of losing her self-respect and her fear that Donelle should lose her opportunity. Law received the letter and read it while young James Norval was in his studio. "Jim, do you remember that girl that Alice Lindsay discovered up in Canada?" he said; he was strangely moved and amused by Jo’s words. "The little Moses?" Norval was standing in front of an easel upon which rested one of his own pictures, one he had brought for Law’s verdict. "What?" Law stared at Norval. "Oh! wasn’t that the girl that some woman said she had adopted out of a Home?" "Yes. What of it?" "Only a joke, Andy. You remember Pharaoh’s daughter _said_ she took Moses out of the bulrushes. Don’t scowl, Andy; you don’t look pretty." "Listen to this letter, Jim, and don’t be ribald." Law read the letter. "What are you going to do, Andy?" Norval was quite serious now. "As soon as I can I’m going up there, and take a look at things." "You are going to help the girl?" "Yes, if I can." "After all, Andy, can you? Could Alice? The girl would have to be rather large-sized to overcome her handicaps, wouldn’t she?" "Alice had faith." "I know, but a man might muddle things." "I shall run up, however." Law was still scowling. Then Norval changed the subject. "How’s Helen?" he asked, deep sympathy in his eyes. The insane wife of Anderson Law was rarely mentioned, but her recent illness made the question necessary. "Her body grows stronger, her mind——" Law’s face was grim and hard. "Andy, can’t you be just to yourself? Have the years taught you nothing? There can be but one end for Helen and if you see to her comfort, you have every right to your freedom." "Jim, I cannot do it! God, Man! I’ve had my temptations. When I saw her so ill, I saw—Jim, I saw hope; but while she lives I cannot cast her off. It would be like stealing something when she wasn’t looking." "But Lord, Andy! Helen can never come back. They all tell you that."