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 great-aunt saw that something must be done, and done quickly….

There were moments, almost happy moments, when Lydia persuaded herself that nothing mattered save Angus and her love for him; that nothing in the world could embitter the joy of seeing him again, of being with him, touching him, caressing him—of mothering and of comforting him…. But these periods were brief, to be followed by long days of depression and heartache.

Poor Lydia ! She was caught in a net not of her own weaving. The knife which cuts the meshes of such a net must ofttimes wound the prisoner it releases. For weeks great-aunt Margaret had been debating the advisability of inflicting such a wound. The knife was ready to her hand, but what use to free the prisoner if the freeing left her maimed forever?… She reached her decision only after sleepless nights and troubled days. She believed in the efficacy of prayer and in the sturdiness of the blood which flowed in Lydia’s veins. Because Lydia was a Canfield Aunt Margaret dared to use the knife. Perhaps an element of fatality entered into the matter.

“If she’s any good,” Aunt Margaret said to herself, “she’ll come through it. If she isn’t—”