speak! Who would heed her?

One, and one only. Margaret Moffatt!

From her Priscilla shrank and hid until she could gain courage to go
and--by saving her, kill her! Yes, it meant that. The killing of the
beautiful All Woman, as Travers had called her. After the telling there
would be only the shadow of the splendid creature that God had meant to
be so happy, if only the wrong of the world had not come between!

There were moments when, worn by struggle and wakeful nights, Priscilla
felt incapable of sane thought.

Why should she interfere, she asked herself. Professional silence was her
only course. And--there was the chance--the chance! Against it stood,
pleading, Margaret's radiant love and Huntter's strength and devotion.

Who could blame her if she--forgot? But oh! how they would curse her if
she spoke! They might not believe; they might ruin her!

Then faith laid its commanding touch upon her spirit. It had been given
her to know a woman who, for high principles and all the sacred future,
was prepared to sacrifice her love if needs must be!

They two, Margaret of the high-soul, and she, Priscilla Glenn of the
understanding devotion, seemed to stand apart and alone, each, in her
way, called upon to testify and act.

"It must be done!" moaned Priscilla; "she must know and--decide! But how?
how?"