Supposing that it was in vain, supposing that what she had given to-day--given utterly once and for all, so that she could not take it back--had been given to a man who loved another woman, and that woman her own dear sister! Supposing that the fate of her love was to be like water falling unalteringly on the hard rock that heeds it not and retains it not! True, the water wears the rock away; but could she be satisfied with that?
She could master him, she knew; even if things were so, she could win him to herself, she had read it in his eyes that afternoon; but could she, who had promised to her dead mother to cherish and protect her sister, whom till this day she had loved better than anything in the world, and whom she still loved more dearly than her life--could she, if it should happen to be thus, rob that sister of her lover?
And if it should be so, what would her life be like?
It would be like the great pillar after the lightning had smitten it, a pile of shattered smoking fragments, a very heaped-up debris of a life.

She could feel it even now.

No wonder, then, that Jess sat there upon the little white bed holding her hand against her heart and feeling terribly afraid.
Just then she heard John's footsteps in the hall.
"I can't find her," he said in an anxious tone to some one as she rose, taking her candle with her, and left the room.

The light of it fell full upon his face and dripping clothes.

It was white and anxious, and she was glad to see the anxiety.
"Oh, thank God! here you are!" he said, catching her hand.