It took no effort on her part to bring back to her memory Jordan Morse's handsome face and his rock-grey eyes, eyes like Bobbie's. He and Bobbie had gone away together. She touched the corner of the envelope to the candle, watching it roll over in a brown curl as it burned. "He's happy now," she murmured. "He's got his baby and Lafe's angels." Then she gathered up the handful of ashes, opened the window, and threw them out. The hands of the night wind snatched them as they fell and carried them swiftly away through the rain. On her way to the attic stairs, she stood a minute before the window, awe-stricken. From the north the great storm was advancing, and from among the hills rolled the distant roar of thunder. It brought to her mind the night when Peggy had gone into the life-valley and brought back Lafe's baby; and she remembered, too, with a sob, Blind Bobbie, and how she missed him. Ah, it was a lonely, haunted little spirit that crept up the dark narrow stairs to the garret! Only that the room seemed lower and more stuffy, it, too, was much the same as she had left it. She brushed aside some silvery cobwebs, raised the window, and sat down on a dilapidated trunk. On the floor at her feet, almost covered with dust, was the old fairy book about the famous kings. She picked it up mechanically. On the first page was the man in the red suit, with the overhanging nose and fat body,--he whom she at one time believed to be related to Theodore. Again she was overwhelmed with her misery. Theodore belonged to another woman, and Jinnie, alone with her past and an uncertain future, sat staring dry-eyed into the stormy night. CHAPTER L "GOD MADE YOU MINE" "I haven't seen any papers for three days, Molly. What's become of them all?" Theodore and Molly were sitting in the waning sunshine, the many-colored autumn leaves drifting silently past them to form a varied carpet over the grass. All fear had now left the woman. She had Jinnie's promise not to see Theodore, and he had apparently forgotten there ever was such a girl in the world. "I'd really like to see the papers," repeated Theodore. "Dear me, how glad I am to be so well!" "We're all glad," whispered Molly, with bright eyes. She had kept the papers from him purposely, playfully pretending she would rather give him an account of the court proceedings. When she described how another man had confessed to the shooting, Theodore felt a glad thrill that the cobbler was exonerated. Later Molly decided she would tell him about Morse, but never that she had married him. It was she who suggested, after a time of silence: "Theodore, don't you think a little trip would do us all good? Your mother's been so worried over you----" "Where would we go?" he asked, without interest. "Anywhere to get away from Bellaire for a season."