"I went over to see Mrs. Betts, yesterday, Edward. She sent for me. And I found her half mad--in despair! I just persuaded her to wait till I'd seen you. But perhaps you've seen her--to-day?" She hung on his answer. "Indeed, no." The chill, the alteration in his tone were evident. "I left Blackmount this morning, after matins, motored home, just saw my father and mother for a moment--heard nothing--and rode on here as fast as I could. What is there fresh, dearest? I thought that painful business was settled. And I confess I feel very indignant with Mrs. Betts for dragging you--insisting upon dragging you--into it!" "How could she help it? She's no friends, Edward! People are very sorry for him--but they fight shy of her. I dare say it's right--I dare say she's deserved it--I don't want to know. But oh it's so miserable--so pitiable! She's _going_!--she's made up her mind to that--she's going. That's what she wanted to tell me--and asked that I should tell you." "She could do nothing better for herself, or him," said Newbury, firmly. "But she's not going, in the way you proposed! Oh no. She's going to slip away--to hide! He's not to know where she is--and she implores you to keep him here--to comfort him--and watch over him." "Which of course we should do." The quiet, determined voice sent a shiver through Marcia. She caught Newbury's hand in hers, and held it close. "Yes, but Edward!--listen!--it would kill them both. His mind seems to be giving way. I got a letter from her again this morning, inclosing one from their doctor. And she--she says if she does go, if decent people turn her out, she'll just go back to people like herself--who'll be kind to her. Nothing will induce her to go to the Cloan Sisters." "She must, of course, be the judge of that," said Newbury, coldly. "But you can't allow it!--you _can't_!--the poor, poor things!" cried Marcia. "I saw him too, Edward--I shall never forget it!" And with a growing excitement she gave a full account of her visit to the farm, of her conversation with Mrs. Betts, of that gray, grief-stricken face at the window. "He's fifty-two. How can he start again? He's just torn between his work--and her. And if she goes away and hides from him, it'll be the last straw. He believes he saved her from a bad life--and now he'll think that he's only made things worse. And he's ill--his brain's had a shake. Edward--dear Edward!--let them stay!--for my sake, let them stay!" All her soul was in her eyes. She had never been more winning--more lovely. She placed her hands on his shoulders as he sat beside her, and leaned her soft cheek against his. "Do you mean--let them stay on at the Farm?" he asked, after a pause, putting his arms round her.