Maris by Grace Livingston Hill Page A

told you this morning what I felt that means. Your mother has lasted all day. She will doubtless last a few hours longer without your help. I cannot allow you to ruin our wedding preparations this way for mere sentiment. I thought you had more strength of character than that!"
    Maris stared at him for an instant longer, and then she looked down at her ring as if she had never been acquainted with it before.
    Slowly she put up her other hand and took the ring off, holding it out to him.
    "You had better take it back, then. I could not wear a ring under those conditions." Her voice was very firm and very sad.
    But he did not take the ring.
    "You are beside yourself!" he said in tones like icicles. "You do not know what you are doing. I did not know you had such a temper. Put on that ring, and stop acting like a child! You said you were never going to take it off when I put it on, and now look! Put it on quickly or you will drop it on the floor. It is too valuable a stone to be playacting with. Don't, for heaven's sake, try to get your own way by being dramatic. It won't go down with me!"
    Maris suddenly reached out and pushed the ring within his clasp and, turning, fairly flew up the stairs. Her face was ghastly white and her head was whirling, but she did not forget to go softly, and to the listening angry man below it seemed almost as if she had melted into mist, so silently she disappeared.
    He stood for a minute looking down at the great lovely stone in its perfect setting, catching the evening sunlight that fell through the door, reflecting sharp bright lights in a prism of color. Then his anger rose still hotter. To think she would dare play with as costly a stone as that! To expect she could conquer him, Tilford Thorpe, when he had once given forth his mandate! And he had thought her so gentle! So pliable! So easy to mold!
    Almost he started up the stairs after her! Then he thought better of that! That was doubtless what she wanted. She was likely in hysterics now, expecting him to find his way to her and yield to her wishes. Let her see what she had done! Let her go through the night without that wonderful ring! Let her know humiliation and shame and understand what a dreadful thing it was to stand out against him!
    So he tucked the ring into his pocket and whirled on his heel, going out the screen door, which would have slammed if Maitland hadn't taken care that very noon to put a tiny pad of cotton in the spot where it would have slammed. He went out to his car and started it with far more noise than he needed. Let her hear that she had sent him away from her! Let her understand how final had been her act! Let her have time to fully realize what an awful, what an irreparable thing she had done in offending the whole mighty Thorpe family! Let her think that it was all over forever between them. It would do her good. He wouldn't be in a hurry to make it up, either. She would have to come crawling after him, and ask forgiveness, too. It wasn't for him to yield. He drove furiously away from her thinking his mad thoughts.
    And up in her own room Maris knelt by the window over in the corner where Lexie couldn't see her from the bed, where no one would see her if they opened the door to call her; where only God could see her. And she said quietly in words that only God could hear: "Dear God, were You taking charge? Was that what You wanted me to do?"
    And then quite simply she clasped her hands that were empty of her lovely ring and felt entirely naked and helpless, and was suddenly conscious of a great peace. God was taking charge, and it must have been what He willed, for there had been nothing else to do. She could not go away and make merry and leave her dear ones who needed her. And she could not wear Tilford's ring under those conditions!
    Then she heard Merrick's hushed footsteps coming to her door, and she arose quite calmly to meet him, stepping out in the hall and talking in low tones. Her brother's eyes searched