Because if I have made a mistake and he does not care for me--oh, then I never want to see him again, for he would pity me, and that I cannot bear." "What?
Not even to bring him rest and relief from his pain?
Not to help him in a critical hour?
He has been asking for you, remember." Steadily they face each other, eye to eye, and all at once she is conscious that the struggle is over, and, looking at the face in the glass, she says, "Yes, I think I would be willing to do that for him, no matter how it would shame me." Another heart-searching pause, and the eyes answer her again, "I will go to-morrow." At once she reads a new peace in the face that gazes at her so weary and wan, and she knows that for the sake of the man she loves she is willing to endure even the shame of his pity.

The battle was over and some sort of victory at least she had won.

An eager impatience possessed her to go to him at once.

"I wish it were to-morrow now, this very minute." She rose and looked out into the night.

There was neither moon nor stars and a storm was brewing, but she knew she could find her way in the dark.