They were getting nearer to their goal. She said the words softly aloud as she bent her frail shoulders over the bed, pinning together the frayed edges.
"Pioneers, O Pioneers..." She could hear the throb of marching steps, see at last the faint line of the distant hills where freedom lay. What mattered, then, if the road were long, and the sharp rock cut her weary feet, when on the horizon a new day dawned—an era of justice for her sex?
Something achieved, something done...
There came a knock at her bedroom door and Lizzie entered with a letter between a dirty finger and thumb.
An odd premonition of disaster seized Mrs. Uniacke as she took it. She waited for the servant to go before she broke the careful seal. And, as she read, she gave a gasp. Stephen—leaving her? ... deserting the Cause...? Here was a shattering of her dreams, a swift blow out of the dark.
She left her sewing and sat down, the letter open on her knees.
One definite thought held her now—this must be stopped—at any cost!
But where was she to find the money? She crossed to the table by the window, unlocked a drawer and drew out her pass-book, turning the pages feverishly.
There was Roddy, clamouring for clothes, household bills in abeyance, Jill's music lessons to pay ... Then, like a flash, it came to her. Her diamond star! Yes—that must go.
Anything—to keep Stephen!