“She made me see. She gave me everything. She gave me herself. I found myself because of her and I’m only living in the light she gave me.” It was difficult to find words for what Effie was and meant to him. “I don’t know if I can ever explain,” he faltered. “Go on. You’re doing very well.” He was--Anne’s insight helping her. “It’s like rebirth. It’s as if I’d lived till I met her six months ago with crooked eyesight. I didn’t see straight, and then, mother----” He hesitated as a man will hesitate before voicing a profound conviction, afraid lest he be thought absurd. “Then I found salvation, I’ve been a taker and we’re here to give. I took from you------” “Leave that,” said Anne curtly. “I know it.” “And I didn’t,” he replied. “It seems to me that I knew nothing till Effie come.” “Why do you want Ada back?” “It’s time I gave to her.” “Did Effie show you that?” “Yes.” Anne was silent for a minute. Then: “I’ll have a look at Effie,” she said. “You can take me to her.” “I can’t do that,” said Sam. “We’re not to meet.” She pondered it, and him. “Kate told me you were looking ill,” she said with apparent inconsequence. “Well, if you can’t take me to Effie, I must go alone. I’m going, either road. Give me her address and I’ll go to-morrow.” He wrote it down. “Effie Mannering,” she read. “Aye,” she said grimly, “I’ll give that young woman a piece of my mind.” “Mother,” he said, alarmed, “you’ll not be rude to her! You’ve not misunderstood?” “Maybe,” said Anne, “but I don’t think so. I think I understand that you’ve got your silly heads up in the clouds and it’ll do the pair of you a lot of good to have them brought to earth. I’ll know for sure when I’ve set eyes on her.” “You’ll see the glory of her, then,” he said defiantly. “Shall I?” she asked. “If you ask me, Sam, there’s been a sight too much glorification about this business. It shapes to me,” she went on, thwarting the protest which was leaping to his lips. “It shapes to me like a plain case of love. Aye, and love’s too rare a thing in this world to be thrown away. I was never one to waste.” So Anne Branstone took control, and Sam sat staring at her helplessly like a man who dreams. CHAPTER XXIII--THE KNIGHT’S MOVE |IT might very well have occurred to Sam to retort that he and Effle had not “their silly heads in the clouds” any more fantastically than had Anne her self when she retreated to Madge’s and watched her loved son only through the eyes of Kate Earwalker. But it did not occur to him and, if it had, Effie at least would have disproved the retort. Effle outstripped them all. The truth was that as soon as Effle knew what was the matter with her she was not appalled, dismayed, ashamed, or any of the things appropriate to a young lady in her situation, but simply and purely exultant. Unhappiness fell from her like a cloak, and left her radiant with joy. And she had called herself a realist!