When Dora had left, Tilly stood at the gate and watched her crossing the vacant lots till she was out of sight. Then the young wife went back to her work, but it had lost its charm. She could think of nothing but the discoveries she had made. She was enabled now to account for hundreds of discrepancies and omissions in her husband's words and acts in the past. Now all things were clear--too clear by far for her peace of mind. The terrible scandal would reach Cranston. It was sure to, eventually, and all her friends and acquaintances would pity her. And as for Joel Eperson--why, knowing him as she knew him, it would crush him. Her marriage already had dealt him a blow, and this would add to his suffering. As for her parents, she fancied her mother's taking it stolidly and inexpressively; but her father, ah, that would be a different matter! She dared not contemplate the effect on his monumental pride and uncontrollable temper. He would interpret it in terms of heaven, hell, and eternity. He would be as relentless as a patriarch ordered by the voice of God to slay his young in the cause of righteousness. Something must be done, and quickly, but what? CHAPTER XXVI In terrible loneliness the day dragged by. The blood of her being seemed sluggish in her veins. She could not eat her luncheon. She thought of going to see Mrs. Cavanaugh, but she did not know where the contractor lived, and, as Mrs. Cavanaugh was still in bed with illness, a call would be out of place. Besides, she was sure, even if she went, that she would not be able to broach a matter of such undoubted delicacy, and, unless she mentioned it, how could Mrs. Cavanaugh allude to it? Tilly felt, too, that when John came she would not be able to mention it to him, for had he not kept from her even the fact of his mother's visit to him at his work the day before? It was growing dark when he came. She had not lighted the gas, because she feared that he might too plainly see her face and read its new lines, shadows, and shrinkings, and he came into the hall, his dinner-pail in hand, as she stood waiting for him in the parlor. She essayed a cheerful greeting, but the words stuck in her tight throat and she went into his arms without uttering them. "So, so, little mouse," he said, in a forced tone of cheerfulness, "here you are in your dark little hole. Let me light up. I'm dead tired. We all had to put our shoulders to it to-day and lift some big stones and place them right. Our derrick broke twice." He went to the kitchen. She heard him fumbling about for some matches. Then he came back, striking the matches and lighting the jets in dining-room, sitting-room, and hall. "You are hungry," she said. "Supper is ready, all but taking it up."