She had come home with a longing to be quiet, to avoid seeing anyone. But this could not be, she discovered. There was gossip about the child’s blindness, and the significance thereof; and to have gone into hiding would have meant an admission of the worst. The ladies of the family had prepared a grand “reception,” at which all Castleman County was to come and gaze upon the happy mother. And then there was the monthly dance at the Country Club, where everybody would come, in the hope of seeing the royal pair. To Sylvia it was as if her mother and aunts were behind her every minute of the day, pushing her out into the world. “Go on, go on! Show yourself! Do not let people begin to talk!” 13. She bore it for a couple of weeks; then she went to her cousin, Harley Chilton. “Harley,” she said, “my husband is anxious to go on a hunting-trip. Will you go with him?” “When?” asked the boy. “Right away; to-morrow or the next day.” “I’m game,” said Harley. After which she went to her husband. “Douglas, it is time for you to go.” He sat studying her face. “You still have that idea?” he said, at last. “I still have it.” “I was hoping that here, among your home-people, your sanity would partially return.” “I know what you have been hoping, Douglas. And I am sorry--but I am quite unchanged.” “Have we not been getting along happily here?” he demanded. “No, I have not--I have been wretched. And I cannot have any peace until you no longer haunt me. I am sorry for you, but I must be alone--and so long as you are here the entertainments will continue.” “We could make it clear that we did not care for entertainments. We could find some quiet place near your people, where we could live in peace.” “Douglas,” she said, “I have spoken to Cousin Harley. He is ready to go hunting with you. Please call him up and make arrangements to start to-morrow. If you are still here the following day, I shall leave for one of Uncle Mandeville’s plantations.” There was a long silence. “Sylvia,” he said, at last, “how long do you imagine this behaviour of yours can continue?” “It will continue forever. My mind is made up. It is necessary that you make up yours.” Again he waited, while he made sure of his self-control. “You propose to keep the baby with you?” he asked, at last. “For the present, yes. The baby cannot get along without me.” “And for the future?” “We will make a fair arrangement as to that. Give me a little time to get myself together, and then I will come and live somewhere near you in New York, and I will arrange it so that you can see the child as often as you please. I have no desire to take her from you--I only want to take myself from you.” “Sylvia,” he said, “have you realized all the unhappiness this course of yours is going to bring to your people?” “Oh, don’t begin that now!” she pleaded. “I know,” he said, “how determined you are to punish me. But I should think you would try to find some way to spare them.”