Treadwell was aware of--of our arrangement--I knew, from Lans, that she was broad minded and generous but when I saw you two together last night--I--I wanted to come to you instead of to her!"

An overpowering excitement in the speaker began to affect Cynthia. She drew her chair closer and whispered:

"Please tell me--all about it!"

The significant words rushed Marian Spaulding breathlessly onward.

"I--I could not go to him--to Lans--until I made sure--as sure as possible--that I would not be injuring him by--by my demands. I wanted to tell some one who loved him and would think of him, first. He was always so heavenly good to me--I would not harm him even--now!"

"No!" Cynthia's deep eyes were fastened on the white, strained face. "I reckon no one would want to hurt Lans."

"I was so unhappy when--when he saved me from my life of shame and misery. There was no other way--and--and we had to choose! He was so noble--it was I who--who--gave myself to him; he never exacted--anything.

I--loved him as only God and I can know! Poor Lans never comprehended why I left--but he--my husband was ill; dying and I could not help it.

Something made me go back. It was the good in me that Lans had created that most of all compelled me to go. If Lans could believe that! oh! if he only could! A woman could, but could a man?"

Poor Cynthia was struggling to understand a strange language.

"I'm right sure," she faltered, "that Lans could understand."

"Do you think so? Oh! I have been so tortured. He told me to come to him if I needed him and God knows I need him now--but I wanted most of all--not to hurt him--or exact too much from his goodness. You see----"

a palpitating pause followed. Then: "I did not _know_ of my condition when I went away; I only heard and saw the wretched man who was once, who was still--my husband. I stayed and nursed him; he died--a month ago--and now--I must think of--of--the child!"

"The child?" Faintly Cynthia repeated the words and her bewildered mind struggled with them and fitted them, somehow, into the Hopes' cabin, and that scene where Marcia Lowe arraigned Liza.

The door of the sitting-room opened and Lans entered noiselessly. Marian Spaulding's back was toward it and in her slow, vague way Cynthia was wondering why he should be there just then. The last shielding crust of childhood was breaking away from Cynthia--her womanhood, full and glowing, was being fanned to flame by the appeal this strange woman was making upon it. Cynthia, the girl who had been caught in the net, had no longer any part in this tragedy--she was free!

"The child?" she again repeated, "what child?"

"Why, Lans's and mine!"

Then Cynthia stood up quite firm and straight. She looked full and commandingly at Lans who was leaning, deadly white, against the door he had closed behind him.

"Here is Lans, now," she said, more to the haggard man than to the pale woman.

It was as if, in those four simple words, she appealed to the best and finest of him to deal with this fearful responsibility which was his, not hers. In that instant she relinquished all the forced ties that held him and her--she cast him off superbly at this critical time of his life; not bitterly or unkindly--but faithfully.

Marian Spaulding turned and rose unsteadily to her feet, then with outstretched arms, she staggered toward Lans. Over her pitiful, wan face a flood of passion and love surged--her lonely, desperate soul claimed its own at last!

"Lans! Lans!" she cried, falling into his arms; "you will understand!

you must understand--and there is--our child!"

Lansing Treadwell held the little form close, but his wide, haunted eyes sought Cynthia's over the head pressed against his breast. Cynthia smiled at him; smiled from a far, far place, helpfully, bravely. She demanded his best of him with confidence, and the unreality of it all held no part in the thought of either.

"I must take her--away!" Lans found words at last to say.

"Yes," Cynthia nodded, still smiling her wonderful smile at him.

"I will return--soon. Come--Marian!"

Cynthia saw them depart, heard the lower door close upon them and then she awoke from her spell. Sitting down in a deep chair before the fire she took the incidents of the past few moments, one by one, and set them in order. Like an ignorant child selecting block after block and asking some wiser one what they meant, she demanded of her new self the answer to all she had witnessed.

The travail was long and desperate--and when Lans Treadwell found her, an hour later, he was shocked at the sight of her face.

"My God!" was all he could say.

"We must--talk it over," Cynthia said gravely. "I can understand now.

You see, dear, I couldn't have her hurt--her and--and the child."

Lans dropped in the chair Marian Spaulding had sat in and bowed his head in his hands.

"Was there ever such a cruel situation?" he groaned. Cynthia came to him and knelt beside the arm of his chair. She had never come to him so before and the touch of her body thrilled the man.

"You did not tell her--about me, big brother? did you? You let her believe I am your sister."

"Good God! how could I tell the truth? I was afraid of killing her."

"And--the child. Of course you must not tell--now."

"Cynthia, in heaven's name, don't be too hard upon me--you are my wife!"

Fiercely Lans proclaimed this as if, by so doing, he could find refuge for her as well as himself. But Cynthia shook her head and drove him back upon his better self again.

"Those little words spoken by that man in the hills," she whispered, "couldn't count, I reckon, against--all the rest."

"They can! They shall, Cynthia. I can make the past clear to you, little girl----" Then he stopped still before the look in Cynthia's eyes.

"I am a--woman, Lans!" it seemed to say.

Presently he heard her speak.

"You told Sandy, dear, that night in the cabin, that you would leave my soul to me--until--well! You have left it to me, and the time has come!

I have much to learn; but I understand a mighty lot now. It came to me while I waited, for you to come back from her! My soul would never be clean again, Lans, if--I forgot--the little child--hers and yours! God will be very kind to us-all, dear, if we do right. It's mighty puzzling--but it will come straight. You once loved her?"

"Yes, Cynthia--yes!"

"And you never loved me in _that_ way, dear?"

"You are my wife!" Again the fierceness, "you must and shall come first."

"No, Lans; I am not your wife!"

And with this Cynthia stood up and clasped her hands close.

"Every law in the land says you are!" Treadwell flung his head back and faced her; "this is a hideous tangle, but above all--through all--you are my wife!"

"I do not know, I cannot make you feel how I see it--but I am not your wife! I--I do not want to be! Why, when I saw the light in--in Marian Spaulding's eyes a little time ago as she ran to you--I seemed to know all at once--that it was not to you, Lans dear, that I wanted to run in my trouble, but to----"

"Whom?"