"Ruth what madness is this? What has occurred? You must explain to me clearly."
Then the story rushed out in a flood. Tears checked it at times; a hysterical laugh now and again threatened; but Drew controlled the excitement by word and touch.
"And now," Ruth was panting and exhausted; "she, that—wonderful woman, has given him back—to me. Can't you see? She loves the soul of him—the great, strong man of him—but I—why even now, I cannot forget the evil thing—that befell—the body of him while he was—in—"
"Ruth! You shall not so degrade yourself."
"Yes! Yes! it is quite true. That is what I meant. I am not fit to touch—her nor him, and yet I shall shudder all my life—when I remember."
Drew saw that reason was tottering in Ruth.
"He may—not—wish—to claim you, dear," he comforted.
"But he must; he must! Now that she is going to her own; there is nothing left for me to do—but to go to mine."
"This can go no further, Ruth." Drew rose hastily. "I am going to send Aunt Sally to you, and I must think things out. Calm yourself, dear. In all such times as these, a greater power than is in us, controls and gives strength. Let go—Ruth! Let the Power that is, take you in its keeping."
He touched her cold face with reassuring sympathy, and then went to find Miss Sally.