So something over a week went by, for though Mrs. Blossom had seen Mr. Nathan Fifield several times the mystery was as much of a mystery as the first day, and in spite of all Mrs. Blossom could urge both he and Miss Eudora seemed to grow the more bitter toward Rose. Nor had there come any answer to the letters of inquiry sent to Fredonia. Every possible theory having been exhausted in both cases, the subjects had come to be avoided by a tacit consent. While as to the matter of the marriage certificate, that had made so little impression on Rose’s mind that she was less disappointed than the others in regard to it. Mrs. Blossom did not fail to pray daily at family devotions that the truth they were seeking might be revealed, and innocence established, and she moved around with the serene manner of one who has given over all care to a higher power. But though Rose was unconsciously sustained by a reliance on that strong faith she did not pray for herself. A hopeless apathy chilled her. There might be a God, it didn’t matter much to her, for if there was she was an alien to His love, and she knew she was that for all the rest might say. But one afternoon Rose saw a little procession—Mr. Nathan Fifield and his two sisters, in single file, crossing the now snow-covered common in the direction of Mrs. Blossom’s. All her fears revived at the sight. She sprang up, her eyes dilated, her face flushing and paling. “There they come!” she cried. “I knew they would. They are going to put me in prison, I know they are! Oh, don’t let them take me away! Don’t let them!” and she threw herself down beside Miss Silence and hid her face in her lap as if for safety. Silence put her strong arms about the trembling form. “Sit up, Rose,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “and wait till you see what there is to be afraid of.” By the time Rose had struggled back to outward calmness the visitors had entered; Mr. Nathan, his face almost as red as the red silk handkerchief he waved in his hand; Miss Eudora dissolved in tears; and Miss Fifield with an expression of mingled vexation and crestfallen humility. There was a moment’s awkward silence, broken by Mr. Nathan in an abrupt and aggravated tone. “I’ve come to explain a mistake I have been led into by women’s meddling and—” “You needn’t include me,” interrupted Miss Eudora. “You know I wouldn’t have said what I did if you hadn’t made me feel that we were in danger of being murdered in our beds, and I hadn’t thought Jane would be always blaming me if I didn’t use decision. Nobody can tell how painful it has been for me to do what I have. I don’t know when my nerves will recover from the strain, and I’ve lost flesh till my dresses are so loose they will hardly hang on me. I’m sure I never dreamed that Jane—”