THEIMAGEOFDREAD
Inthecomfortablelittlesitting-roomoftheScottcottageDorisstood，lookingeagerlyfromthewindowwhichgaveupontheroad。
Behindherontheothersideoftheroom，couldbeseenthroughapartlyopeneddoor，aneatlyspreadbed，withahandlyingquietlyonthepatchedcoverlet。Itwasastronglookinghandwhich，evenwhenquiescent，conveyedtheideaofpurposeandvitality。AsDorissaid，thefingersnevercurleduplanguidly，butalwayswiththehintofaclench。SeveralweekshadpassedsincethedepartureofSweetwaterandtheinvalidwasfastgainingstrength。To-morrow，hewouldbeup。
WasDoristhinkingofhim?Undoubtedly，forhereyesoftenflashedhisway；buthermainattentionwasfixedupontheroad，thoughnoonewasinsightatthemoment。Someonehadpassedforwhosereturnshelooked；someonewhom，ifshehadbeenaskedtodescribe，shewouldhavecalledatall，fine-lookingmanofmiddleage，ofacultivatedappearanceseldomseeninthissmallmanufacturingtown；
seldomseen，possibly，inanytown。Hehadglancedupatthewindowashewentby，inamannertoomarkednottoexcitehercuriosity。