IT was three o'clock before Marion regained consciousness, crawled to her mother, and crouched in dumb convulsions in her arms.
"What can we do, my darling?" the mother asked at last.
"Die!—thank God, we have the strength left!"
"Yes, my love," was the faint answer.
"No one must ever know. We will hide quickly every trace of crime. They will think we strolled to Lover's Leap and fell over the cliff, and my name will always be sweet and clean—you understand—come, we must hurry"
With swift hands, her blue eyes shining with a strange light, the girl removed the shreds of torn clothes, bathed, and put on the dress of spotless white she wore the night Ben Cameron kissed her and called her a heroine.
The mother cleaned and swept the room, piled the torn clothes and cord in the fireplace and burned them, dressed herself as if for a walk, softly closed the doors, and hurried with her daughter along the old pathway through the moonlit woods.
At the edge of the forest she stopped and looked back
