"I wish I knew where he is," she said again, this time half aloud. "Somehow I believe he would—forget—for a day." And then she thought of Wilson Jacobs, and in doing so, recalled that, in the months gone by, she had seen him at the end of a talk, and was forced to look away. She could not stand the pain in his eyes. Did he care for her? She wouldn't trust herself to believe it. It wouldn't be right. No. She was glad now that it had gone no further. It wasn't right that he should be allowed to do that, and then learn the truth. Oh, the truth! That was her burden. The other had learned the truth, and then he went away. He would never return. No. And Wilson Jacobs would do likewise. She had struggled these months to keep it from him. If he learned from other lips, it would be as sad; but she would at least not have to face him, and see another suffering in his eyes. With Sidney Wyeth, it now seemed different. As she had grown to feel, she believed she could meet him. She felt now that if she could find his whereabouts, she would go to him. Yes. She would go to him and see him, and let him see her. Oh, as much as she loved him—for her love had never died—she believed now she could look in his eyes and ask him to forget. She suddenly made up her mind to leave and seek him. "But I can't," she moaned. "I can never leave here until I know the worst in regard to the Y.M.C.A. No. I would never be happy to leave them to their fate until I know the best—or the worst." Somewhere in the great north, Wilson Jacobs had either by now, succeeded or failed. Which? Until she knew, she couldn't bring herself to leave.
By this time, she had arrived at the getting off place. She sprang lightly from the car, and walked briskly to where a light shone, for one always shone from Mother Jane's window. And it was this light which guided her now. She skipped lightly along, humming a little song as she did so. Again was she at peace with the world, and forgave all who sinned against her. She had no malice in her heart against anyone, as she approached the house—the house of the Wares'—where already the smell of nourishment was in the air.
"Oh, how delightful it is to have a home. A place where someone with love in their hearts awaits you, and, when the door is opened, gathers you in welcome." She thanked Him that is Holy, for being so kind to her.
She had arrived at last, and with a delightful sigh, raised her foot to the step, and as she did so, her eyes glanced through the window. The next moment she fell back, and placed her hand upon her breast, while her heart thumped violently within.
Then she turned, and disappeared into the night, while those inside waited.
CHAPTER NINE
"Wha's Y' Man?"
On she flew. Across the car tracks she stumbled, but she didn't stop, nor did she look to see whether anyone was coming or not. She thought of nothing, but to be away, away, away! Down the street that was dark and rough, and led to where she did not know, nor did she even care. She was going away, away from everybody. She would hide herself from the world. She could go to another city, but there was no use in that either. She cried half aloud as she hurried along: "I can stand it no longer, I can stand it no longer! I want to die, oh, I want to die!"
"I know," she choked at last, as she stumbled down the middle of a dark alley, in which she now found herself. "I know," she cried again. And she hurried on, as soon as she had caught her breath. "It is the river. Yes, the river." She quickened her pace as she came into a street that was at the end of the alley. It was wider. She hastened down a hill that seemed to her a mile long, and maybe it was more. But when she had hurried two blocks along this, she left the middle of the street and took to the sidewalk, and slowed to a walk. "I can't go on like this. It will excite people. I must walk, but I must hurry, hurry, hurry!"