Here the entrance of a servant, asking for
Daisy, interrupted them; soon after Daisy
herself came into the room. Within a few
minutes of that Mr. Stewart rose to take
his leave.

"Myrrha," he said, bluntly, " I want a
few words alone with your Aunt Daisy."

He spoke holding the door open.

"You mean I am to go away?"

"If I may so far trouble you."

She swept out, giving him, as she passed
him, a somewhat mocking smile and a
significant nod.

Daisy looked frightened, and began to
tremble. " Is anything the matter? If it is
only— about Myrrha— you needn't trouble
to tell me. I know."

"It is not about Myrrha, it is about
myself and yourself. It is only a word. I
want no answer. You needn't speak. I
only want you to know that I am changed
in nothing—that I am ready, that I am
longing, to take all your cares and troubles,
of whatever kind they may be (remember,
I say it, and I mean it, of whatever kind
they may be), to be my cares and troubles.
Twice lately you have said to me what
was not true, Daisy; more than I can tell
you it has hurt me that you should do
that; but I trust you, nevertheless. You
needn't speak. I merely wish you to
know that I am waiting for you still, that
I shall always wait for you till I get you.
That as much as ever I wanted you, which
is as much as a man ever wanted a woman,
I still want you for my wife."

Daisy was now trembling very visibly.
He went away before she had said any other
word.

"'With all your cares and troubles of
whatever nature,' " she repeated. " What
a stress he laid upon that. To think how
he loves me! And how I love him! And
I may not tell him I love him, love him,
love him! May not throw my arms round
his dear neck, and say, ' Take me, do with
me anything you will.' '

Daisy dreamt, wide-eyed, of the deliciousness
of such surrender. Then Myrrha
came in.

"Well, Aunt Daisy, may I congratulate
you? Do you still say you don't mean to
many?"

"Yes, Myrrha, there is no change." But
she felt as if there were change—as if the
whole world had changed. She wished the
girl good-night, and locked herself into her
own room.

Daisy had no sleep that night. All the
fight was fought over again. All the
perplexity of her trouble was reawakened; but
the core of her consciousness was sweet, was
love. When she drew aside her curtains,
and looked out into a fair, still autumn
dawn, she said:

"He shall have the truth. It will tear
my life out to tell him; but he has a right
to my life. He shall have the truth.
Things shan't go on in this way any
longer. I am wasting his life. He shall
have the truth." It had come, she felt, to
the ultimate extremity she must now say
to Kenneth: " All this time I have been
deceiving you. I have been a wife. I am
a mother. You think me innocent, loving,
truthful. I hated my husband. I deserted
my child. I have lied with my whole life.
I have deceived you."

At first she thought she would write her
confession; but she felt as if she must
know how he would look when he heard it,
how he would feel it, how he would bear it.

Mr. Stewart, when he came to the
cottage next morning, found Myrrha still in
her morning dress, standing at the gate.

"You have forgotten we settled it would
not any longer be too warm for morning
rides?"

Myri-ha made no answer, except:

"Oh, Mr. Stewart!"

He saw that she had been crying, and
looked painfully excited; he was off his
horse and at her side in a moment.

"Is anything the matter? Your Aunt
Daisy is not ill?"

"Send the man away," commanded
Myrrha.

"Not till I know I shall not want him."

"Come out of his hearing then."

With a muttered, " Confound the girl,"
Mr. Stewart followed Myrrha from the gate.
Myrrha presently stopped, turned and faced
him with the words:

"Mr. Stewart, Aunt Daisy is gone."

"Gone." He stood quite still a moment.
Then he went to the gate to order his groom
to take the horses back; to have his hunter
saddled, and waiting at the corner of the
lane in as short a time as possible.

"Now, Myrrha, just the simple truth of
all you know, as quickly as possible," he
said, returning to her. " What do you
mean when you say that your Aunt Daisy
is gone?"

"Mean? I mean just what I say. Aunt
Daisy is gone!"

"When? How? Where?"

"I don't know anything about where:
I know very little about anything; and
what I do know I won't tell you if you
speak so crossly, and look so angry, as if