The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. Ramage, by a hundred skilful hints had led her to realize that the problem of her own life was inseparably associated with, and indeed only one special case of, the problems of any woman’s life, and that the problem of a woman’s life is love. “She tried everything, and last of all she tried the stage. Perhaps what I need is something to bite in. I have been thinking—I will go to my wife again. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. Annabel laughed a little uneasily.
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