At sight of Jael, she caught her by the hand, and said, “Well!”

“He is coming again to-morrow.”

“Is he sorry?”

“Not he.”

“Who would have thought he was so wicked?”

This seemed rather exaggerated to Jael; for with all Mrs. Little’s teaching she was not quite a lady yet in all respects, though in many things she was always one by nature.  “Let it pass,” said she.

     “’It is a man’s part to try,
     And a woman’s to deny.’”

“And how often shall I have to deny him I love so dearly?”

“As often as he asks you to be his mistress; for, call it what you like, that is all he has to offer you.”

Grace hid her face in her hands.

Jael colored.  “Excuse my blunt speaking; but sometimes the worst word is the best; fine words are just words with a veil on.”

“Will he dare to tempt me again, after what I said?”

“Of course he will:  don’t you know him? he never gives in.  But, suppose he does, you have your answer ready.”

“Jael,” said Grace, “you are so strong, it blinds you to my weakness.  I resist him, day after day!  I, who pity him so, and blame myself!  Why, his very look, his touch, his voice, overpower me so that my whole frame seems dissolving:  feel how I tremble at him, even now.  No, no; let those resist who are sure of their strength.  Virtue, weakened by love and pity, has but one resource—­to fly.  Jael Dence, if you are a woman, help me to save the one thing I have got left to save.”

“I will,” said Jael Dence.

In one hour from that time they had packed a box and a carpetbag, and were on their way to a railway station.  They left Hillsborough.

In three days Jael returned, but Grace Coventry did not come back with her.

The day after that trying scene, Henry Little called, not to urge Grace again, as she presumed he would, but to ask pardon:  at the same time we may be sure of this—­that, after a day or two spent in obtaining pardon, the temptation would have been renewed, and so on forever.  Of this, however, Little was not conscious:  he came to ask pardon, and offer a pure and patient love, till such time as Heaven should have pity on them both.  He was informed that Mrs. Coventry had quitted Hillsborough, and left a letter for him.  It was offered him; he snatched it and read it.

“My own dear Henry,—­You have given me something to forgive, and I forgive you without asking, as I hope you will one day forgive me.  I have left Hillsborough to avoid a situation that was intolerable and solicitations which I blushed to hear, and for which you would one day have blushed too.  This parting is not forever, I hope; but that rests with yourself.  Forego your idea of vengeance on that man, whose chastisement you would best alleviate by ending his miserable existence; and learn to love me honorably and patiently, as I