In the dim light of the summer house she studied this new Wayne Craighill, puzzled by deeper changes than those of outward person. A new simplicity and directness, a certain self-confidence and definiteness of aim that had been lacking in the Wayne she had known of old set him apart. She wished to let him know that she realized the wide sweep of the change. “That night, that awful night in the library, you were fine; it was splendid of you to offer to take--_that_--on yourself. I have thought of it every hour since.” “Oh, Addie, Addie! Please never speak of that! You didn’t understand it. I didn’t want to stand in his place to help him, but to punish him. I hated him. He had done a foul thing in striking old Gregory, but by taking the blame for it I thought I should be revenging myself on him--my own father--that was it. You see my mind had got a strange twist or I should never have thought of such a thing; but when the opportunity offered there that night I was ready for it. I knew that if once he let the moment pass and I took his crime on my own shoulders, I should have him in torture all the rest of his days. It was an ugly thought; I had other and uglier thoughts about him, but I hope I’m not going to think that sort of thing any more. I’ve got half a grip and I’m going to try to hold on.” “Have you seen Jean Morley?” she asked after a silence. He did not know that this question had been on her lips from the moment he appeared. “Yes, once; to talk to her.” “Fanny’s asked her to York; she’s going there for September.” “I’m not going to York Harbour now or in September,” he answered shortly. “But don’t you suppose Fanny expects you to come while Jean is there? Fanny has been crazy to go to Denbeigh to see you. You know how perfectly devoted she is to you.” “Yes; dear old Fanny! It’s a good thing she didn’t see me up there. It would have given her a stroke.” “Fanny is fond of Jean--and proud of her,” Mrs. Craighill persisted, and her note was plaintive. Her presence in the tea house at that hour expressed her isolation. The tone in which she had spoken of Jean had its pathos and it did not escape him. And the remembrance of his own attitude toward her when she had come home, his father’s wife--his hope that he might make her the instrument of his vengeance upon his father, wrenched him now. This sudden revulsion brought him abruptly to his feet. “I’m going in to speak to father. You needn’t be afraid of what I shall say to him. There must be peace between us all.” She was near to tears, and she was loath to have him go. These were dreary days for Adelaide Craighill; but Wayne had eaten of the fruit of the tree of wisdom and knew the danger that lies in woman’s tears. Their hands touched, and he left her. * * * * *