It was a year before Maria and Miss Blair returned to the United States.  Maria looked older, although she was fully as handsome as she had ever been.  Her features had simply acquired an expression of decision and of finish, which they had not before had.  She also looked more sophisticated.  It had been on her mind that she might possibly meet her step-mother abroad, but she had not done so; and one day Miss Blair had shown her a London newspaper in which was the notice of Ida’s marriage to a Scotchman.  “We need not go to Scotland,” said Miss Blair.

The day after they landed was very warm.  They had gone straight to Miss Blair’s New York house; later they were to go to the sea-shore.  The next morning Maria went into Miss Blair’s vanity room, as she called it, and a strange look was on her face.  “I have made up my mind,” said she.

“Well?” Miss Blair said, interrogatively.

“I cannot let him commit bigamy.  I cannot let my sister marry—­my husband.  I cannot break the laws in such a fashion, nor allow them to do so.”

“You break no moral law.”

“I am not so sure.  I don’t know where the dividing-line between the moral and the legal comes.”

“Then—?”

“I am going to take the train to Amity this noon.”

Miss Blair turned slightly pale, but she regarded Maria unflinchingly.  “Very well,” said she.  “I have always told you that I would not oppose you in any resolution which you might make in the matter.”

“It is not because I love him,” said Maria.  “I do love him; I think I always shall.  But it is not because of that.”

“I know that.  What do you propose doing after you have disclosed yourself?”

“Tell the truth.”

“And then what?”

“I shall talk the matter over with Wollaston and Evelyn, and I think they can be made to see that a quiet divorce will straighten it all out.”

“Not as far as the man’s career is concerned, if he marries your sister, and not so far as your sister is concerned.  People are prone to believe the worst, as the sparks fly upward.”

“Then they will,” Maria said, obstinately.  “I have made up my mind I dare not undertake the responsibility.”

“What will you do afterwards, come back to me?” Miss Blair said, wistfully.  “You will come back, will you not, dear?”

“If you wish,” Maria said, with a quick, loving glance at her.

“If I wish!” repeated Miss Blair.  “Well, go if you must.”

Maria did not reach Amity until long after dark.  Behind her on the train were two women who got on at the station before Amity.  She did not know them, and they did not know her, but they presently began talking about her.  “I saw Miss Maria Stillman at the Ordination in Westbridge, Wednesday,” said one to the other.  This woman had a curiously cool, long-reaching breath when she spoke.  Maria felt it like a fan on the back of her neck.