himself as her husband, Nathaniel Cawthorne? And what would he do to this life of hers that had become of late such a precious possession? He had not seemed strange, nor menacing either, in Ridgefield. But here—here—oh, what would Miss Katherine Park think if she guessed that she was married? What would Miss Katherine Park think of this Nathaniel Cawthorne who wore her ring around his neck in that black dirty hole at night, and thought purple-inked thoughts of her?
Reba pushed the letter into the front of her waist at last where no one could see it, and went into the darkening streets. She walked for a long while, an hour or so perhaps, and before returning venturesomely passed by the filet-lace-covered door in the Back Bay, as if to prove to herself that it could not harm her, that she was not afraid. Inside the house, no doubt, was the little fluttering bird-like lady who shared her secret, and possibly the young minister himself who had legalized her marriage had returned by this time (she had no idea at what port he intended leaving the sailor's boat) and was sitting upstairs in that pretty upper room where she, less than a year ago, had sat herself, warmed by the conviction that the step she had just taken had been both wise and courageous. Oh, well! Never mind! She flung up her head defiantly.
"It was only a few words," she said to herself. "I won't let a few words spoil my life. I will live, now I've got the chance. I just will. The burdens Cousin Pattie couldn't get rid of she put in a pack on her back, like Christian in Pilgrim's Progress, and went right along."
