Myra could hardly speak. "I?" "You." A hand caught hers. "Try. He's simply giving his life to the cause." There was a silence a little while. The tears were wet upon Myra's cheeks. "Mrs. Blaine." "Yes, dear." "Tell me about yourself--what you've been doing--both of you." And as Mrs. Blaine told her, time and time again Myra laughed softly, or was glad the darkness concealed those unbidden tears. But as Mrs. Blaine spoke of the attack of Marrin's men, Myra was thrilled. "But what happened afterward?" she cried. "Isn't he in danger now? Mightn't there be another attack?" Joe's mother's voice rang. "Afterward? It was wonderful. The whole neighborhood rose to Joe's side. They even started a subscription to rebuild the press. Oh, the people here are amazing!" "And the men who mobbed him?" "Many were arrested, but Joe did not appear against them, and the men from Marrin's were the first to come in and tell of their remorse. As for the thugs and criminals--they don't dare lift their heads. Public opinion is hot against them." Thus they talked, intimately, sweetly, and at last the elder woman kissed the younger good-night. "But, dear, you've been crying!" "Oh, I'm so glad to be here!" sobbed Myra. "So glad to be with you!" And even then she had a sense of the greatness and wonder of that day; how new and untapped forces in her nature were emerging; how the whole seeming of life--"These shows of the night and day"--was changing for her; how life was deepening down to its bitter roots, roots bitter but miraculously sheathed in crystalline springs; in sweet waters, in beauty and love and mystery. It was the finding of her own soul--a power great enough to endure tragedy and come forth to a richer laughter and a wiser loveliness. Only thus does life reveal its meanings and its miracles, and prove that it is an adventure high and fine, ever tending higher, ever more enriched with faith and marvelous strength, and that mirth that meets the future with an expectant smile. So thinking, so feeling, she grew drowsier, sank deeper--her body tired in every muscle, in every bone--her mind unable to keep awake; and so she faded into the pure rest of sleep. XI THE WORKHOUSE That next day was as a dream to Rhona. Not until evening did it become real. Breakfast was brought to her cell, but she did not taste it. Next she was led out by a policeman to the street and packed in the patrol wagon with eight other women. The morning was gray, with a hard sifting snow, and as the wagon bumped over cobblestones, Rhona breathed deep of the keen air. The ride seemed without end; but next she was in a ferry; and then, last, was hurried into a long gray building on Blackwells Island. Her cell was fairly large, and contained two cots, one against each wall. She was left disconsolately alone, numb, in despair, and moving about in a dream.