Rose's pale lips quivered for an instant. "What have I to do with love?"

"Go to the house where he lived once, and perhaps you may find out."

"I will--I'll be glad to go. If I could make the next train, could you arrange to have a trunk follow me?"

"Of course. Go on, dear. I know how it happens sometimes, that one can't stay in one place any longer. I suffered from wanderl.u.s.t until I was almost seventy, and it's a long time since you've been away."

"And you'll promise not to tell anybody?"

"I promise."

While Rose was packing a suit-case, Madame brought her a rusty, old- fashioned key, and a card on which she had written directions for the journey. "I've ordered the carriage," she said, "and I'll drive down with you to see you safely off."

After the packing was completed and while there was still nearly an hour to wait before the carriage would come, Rose locked her door, and, after many failures, achieved her note:

"MY DEAR ALLISON:

"You don't know how glad I am for you and how glad I shall be all the rest of my life. I've hoped and dreamed and prayed from the very beginning that it might be so, and I believe that, in time, you'll have back everything you have lost.

"Now that you no longer need me, I am going away to attend to some necessary business for Aunt Francesca and myself, and perhaps to rest a little while in some new place before I go back to my work.

"Of course our make-believe engagement expires automatically now, and I hope you'll soon find the one woman meant to make you happy. I am glad to think that I've helped you a little when you came to a hard place, for the most that any one of us may do for another is to smooth the road.

"Remember me to the others, say good-bye for me, and believe me, with all good wishes,

"Your friend always,

"ROSE."

When she sealed and addressed it, she had a queer sense of closing the door, with her own hands, upon all the joy Life might have in store for her in years to come. Yet the past few weeks were secure, beyond the power of change or loss, and her pride was saved.

No one could keep her from loving him, and the thought brought a certain comfort to her sore heart. Wherever he might be and whatever might happen to him, she could still love him from afar, and have, for her very own, the woman's joy of utmost giving.

When the carriage came, she went down, and, without a word put her note into Aunt Francesca's faithful hands. Isabel had not appeared, fortunately, and it was not necessary to leave any message--Aunt Francesca would make it right, as she always had with everybody.

When the little old lady lifted her face, saying: "Good-bye, dear, come back to me soon," Rose's heart misgave her. "I'll stay," she said, brokenly; "I won't leave you."

But Madame only smiled, and nodded toward the waiting train. She stood on the platform, waving her little lace-bordered handkerchief, until the last car rounded the curve and the fluttering bit of white that was waved in answer had vanished.

Then Madame sighed, wiped her eyes, and drove home.

XXII

A BIRTHDAY PARTY

Allison received the note from Rose at the time he was expecting Rose herself, and was keenly disappointed. "She might at least have stopped long enough to say good-bye," he said to his father.

"Don't be selfish, lad," laughed the Colonel. "We owe her now a debt that we can never hope to pay."

The young man's face softened. "What a brick she has been!" Then, to himself, he added: "if she had loved me, she couldn't have done more."

Life seemed very good to them both that crisp September morning. Just after breakfast Doctor Jack had announced, definitely, that the crushed hand was saved, unless there should be some unlooked-for complication "But mind you," he insisted, "I don't promise any violin-playing, and there'll be scars, but we'll make it look as well as we can. Anyhow, you'll not be helpless."

Allison smiled happily. "Why can't I play, if it heals up all right?"

"There may be a nerve or two that won't work just right, or a twisted muscle, or something. However we'll keep hoping."

The heavy weight that had lain so long upon Allison's heart was slow in lifting. At first he could not believe the good news, greatly to Doctor Jack's disgust.

"You don't seem to care much," he remarked. "I supposed you'd turn at least one somersault. The Colonel is more pleased than you are."

"Dear old dad," said Allison, gratefully. "I owe him everything."

"Everything?" repeated the Doctor, with lifted brows. "And where does Jonathan Ebenezer Middlekauffer come in, to say nothing of the future Mrs. Kent?"

Allison's face clouded for an instant. "I'll never forget what you've done for me, but there isn't any future Mrs. Kent."

"No? Why I thought--"

"So did I, but she's thrown me over and gone away. This morning she sent me a note of congratulation and farewell."

"Upon my word! What have you done to her?"

"Nothing. She says I don't need her any more now, so she's going away."

Doctor Jack paced back and forth on the veranda with his hands in his pockets. "The darkly mysterious ways of the ever-feminine are wonderful beyond the power of words to portray. Apparently you've had to choose between your hand and hers."

"I'm not sure," returned Allison, thoughtfully, "that I wouldn't rather have hers than mine."

"Brace up, old man. Get well and go after her. The world isn't big enough to keep a man away from the woman he wants."

"But," answered Allison, dejectedly, "she doesn't care for me. It was only womanly pity, and now that I don't need that, I've lost her."

"She doesn't care for you!" repeated the Doctor. "Why, man, how can you sit there and tell a lie like that? Of course she cares!"

Allison turned to look at him in astonishment. "It isn't possible!"

"Isn't it? Then I don't know anything about human nature, though I must confess I'm not up much on the feminine part of it. How long--"

"Just since the accident. The girl I was going to marry let me release her. She didn't want a cripple, you know."

"And Miss Bernard did, and you've disappointed her?"