truth, and trust, and honor! "With you the proverb seems to be reversed; it's off with the new love and on with the old. You can insult and threaten me in her presence! Well—go on: play out your little love-scene: I shall not interrupt you. I have heard enough to darken my life from this day!"
She walked away from them, up the avenue. Her dress was torn, her arms scratched and bleeding. She had played her stake and failed,—miserably, hopelessly failed. Her knees threatened to give way under her at every step, but she forced herself to walk erect, and thus reached the house without once looking back.
Joseph and Lucy mechanically followed her with their eyes. Then they turned and gazed at each other a moment without speaking. Lucy was very pale, and the expression of horror had not yet left her face.
"She told me to come to you," she stammered. She begged me, with tears, to try and soften your anger against her; and then—oh, it is monstrous!"
"Now I see the plan!" Joseph exclaimed; "and I, in my selfish recklessness, saying what there was no need to utter, have almost done as she calculated,—have exposed you to this outrage! Why should I have recalled the past at all? I was not taking off a mask, I was only showing a scar—no, not even a scar, but a bruise!—which I ought to have forgotten. Forget it, too, Lucy, and, if you can, forgive me!"
"It is easy to forgive—everything but my own blindness," Lucy answered. "But there is one thing which I must do immediately: I must leave this house!"
"I see that," said Joseph, sadly. Then, as if speaking to himself, he murmured: "Who knows what friends will
