“‘Dora, you are a woman, and women judge their sex more harshly than we do, but you would not have had me refuse that dying request?’ “‘I should hate you if you had,’ I sobbed, while he continued: “‘Mother made a motion of dissent. She was casting a stone, but I did not heed her. I lifted Anna up; I held her on my bosom; I pushed away the clustering curls; I kissed the quivering lips sueing for forgiveness and assuring me all was right. I forgave her then and there as I hoped to be forgiven; I said I would care for her baby; I received her last injunction; I kept her in my arms until the last fleeting breath went out, and when I laid her back upon the pillow she was dead! “‘Death wipes out many a stain, and Anna, by her dying, threw over the past a veil of charity, which only a few of the coarser, unfeeling ones ever tried to rend. There was gossip and talk, and wonder, and pity, and surmise, and something suspicious thrown upon me, the more readily as people generally did not know that our engagement had been broken; but I outlived it all, and when, three months after Anna died, I rose from a sick-bed, and went forth among people again, they gave me only sympathy and friendly words, never mentioning either Anna or Robin in my presence. “‘During that sickness, my opinion with regard to the practice of medicine underwent a change, and greatly to the horror of good old Dr. Lincoln, with whom I studied, I became a homœopathist. This furnished me with an excuse for leaving Morrisville, as I wished to investigate that mode of treatment, and gain every possible information from physicians whom I knew to be intelligent and thorough. I went first to New York, and after a few months commenced my new practice in Boston; thence, as you know, I went to Beechwood. Once I hoped mother might be persuaded to go with me, but she said: “‘“I would rather stay here, where people know all about it. I could not bear to be questioned concerning Robin.” “‘Women are different from men; it takes them longer to rise above anything like disgrace, and mother has never been what she was before Anna’s death. She came in time to love Robin dearly, but his misfortune added to her grief, until her cup seemed more than full. Her health is failing rapidly, and a change of place is necessary. For a long time past I have had it in my mind to sell the cottage and take mother to Beechwood. A friend of mine stands ready to purchase at any time. I saw him two hours since, and to-morrow the papers will be drawn which will deprive us of our home.’ “‘And your mother!’ I exclaimed, ‘will she go to Beechwood?’ “‘Not at present. Not until she is better, Dora. I am going with mother to California as soon as I can arrange my affairs at home. I may not return for a long time, certainly not for a year.’