“Your mother is ill,” she said. “She is at our house. Come directly, but say nothing about it—we must keep it to ourselves.” There is no need to describe the scene which followed—a very painful one, which the three persons who witnessed it never forgot. Ann showed herself invaluable in the emergency, and John succeeded at last in getting his mother home. Ann could not quite make up her mind whether Mrs. Hunter was insane or intoxicated, but she had not much time to consider the question, for Margaret had borne all that she could bear, and Ann’s hands were full for the present. The next morning Margaret wrote accepting the management of the home for training young girls for their future life. John called in the afternoon, looking so ill that Margaret’s heart ached for him. She put her arms around him, and touched his forehead with her lips. “Oh, my dear, I wish I could help you,” she said. “Yours is a worse trouble than mine.” “Were you not frightened last night, Margaret?” “Yes, I was, and terribly surprised; but I saw at once that Mrs. Hunter was ill. Is she better to-day?” “She is quiet and exhausted. Margaret, what am I to do?” “You must take care of her, and nurse her. Let Ann Johnson come and help you. Mrs. Hunter seemed to like her. I cannot stay here, John, and you must take this house, and all that is in it. I do not want the money. I have no use for it, and I think your mother will get better, and look at things differently, if I am no longer here to irritate her.” “I shall want some one to help me.” “Yes, you will, dear; but I must not come. It would make her worse if I were near. Oh, John! John! I wonder why such trouble is allowed to come to you. I would give my life to help you if I might; but you must bear it all alone. Perhaps Mrs. Hunter is not really as ill as we fear.” “She is worse than I thought her. I am afraid of the future. Is there hope anywhere? Margaret, you will always love me whatever comes?” “Always, always; be very sure of it; and when I may I will come to you. But for the present you must take this house and the money, and let your mother do as she likes with it.” “You are not exactly a woman of business, my dear,” said John. “You cannot give up your house and money like this, you know. Neither must you go away.” “Yes, John, I must—for the present, at all events. There is no other way out of the difficulty.” John considered gravely. Love ought to be first, he thought; did not every one say it was the greatest force in the world? But Duty? John Dallington and Margaret Miller gave Duty the highest place in their lives, and both knew that neither could be happy by trying to put even love itself before it.