Then Lucy’s face came before him, her whole career, in fact (in a flash, as a drowning man’s life is pictured), from the first night after her return from school until he had bade her good-by to take the train for Trenton.  Little scraps of talk sounded in his ears, and certain expressions about the corners of her eyes revealed themselves to his memory.  He thought of her selfishness, of her love of pleasure, of her disregard of Jane’s wishes, of her recklessness.

Everything was clear now.

“What a fool I have been!” he said to himself.  “What a fool—­fool!  I ought to have known!”

Next the magnitude of the atonement, and the cruelty and cowardice of the woman who had put her sister into so false a position swept over him.  Then there arose, like the dawning of a light, the grand figure of the woman he loved, standing clear of all entanglements, a Madonna among the saints, more precious than ever in the radiance of her own sacrifice.

With this last vision his mind was made up.  No, he would not wait a moment.  Once this terrible secret out of the way, Jane would regain her old self and they two fight the world together.

As he loosened the reins over the sorrel a light suddenly flashed from one of the upper windows disappeared for a moment, and reappeared again at one of the smaller openings near the front steps.  He drew rein again.  Someone was moving about—­who he did not know; perhaps Jane, perhaps one of the servants.  Tying the lines to the dashboard, he sprang from the gig, tethered the mare to one of the lilac bushes, and walked briskly toward the house.  As he neared the steps the door was opened and Martha’s voice rang clear: 

“Meg, you rascal, come in, or shall I let ye stay out and freeze?”

Doctor John stepped upon the porch, the light of Martha’s candle falling on his face and figure.

“It’s I, Martha, don’t be frightened; it’s late, I know, but I hoped Miss Jane would be up.  Has she gone to bed?”

The old nurse started back.  “Lord, how ye skeered me!  I don’t know whether she’s asleep or not.  She’s upstairs with Archie, anyhow.  I come out after this rapscallion that makes me look him up every night.  I’ve talked to him till I’m sore, and he’s promised me a dozen times, and here he is out ag’in.  Here!  Where are ye?  In with ye, ye little beast!” The dog shrank past her and darted into the hall.  “Now, then, doctor, come in out of the cold.”

Doctor John stepped softly inside and stood in the flare of the candle-light.  He felt that he must give some reason for his appearance at this late hour, even if he did not see Jane.  It would be just as well, therefore, to tell Martha of Bart’s death at once, and not let her hear it, as she was sure to do, from someone on the street.  Then again, he had kept few secrets from her where Jane was concerned; she had helped him many times before, and her advice was always good.  He knew that she was familiar with every detail of the captain’s story, but he did not propose to discuss Lucy’s share in it with the old nurse.  That he would reserve for Jane’s ears alone.