-I don't know."

He tried to meet her glance, which seemed to read his very soul, then
her hand dropped at her side and she took a step forward, her head bowed
and her face averted.

Again came the thought of North's awful isolation; the thought of that
lonely death where love and tenderness had no place; all the ghastly
terror of that last moment when he was hurried from this living
breathing world! It was a monstrous thing! A thing beyond
belief--incredible, unspeakable!

"We can believe in his courage," said her father, "as certainly as we
can believe in his innocence."

"Yes--" she gasped.

"That is something. And the day will surely come when the world will
think as we think. The truth seems lost now, but not for always!"

"But when he is gone--when he is no longer here--"

The general was silent. North had compelled his respect and faith; for
after all, no guilty man could have faced death with so fine a courage.
There was more to him than he had ever been willing to admit in his
judgment of the man. Whatever his faults, they had been the faults of
youth; had the opportunity been given him he would have redeemed
himself, would have purged himself of folly. "Some day," the general was
thinking, "I will tell her just what my feelings for North have been,
how out of disapproval and doubt has come a deep and sincere regard."

The sun swept higher in the heavens, and the gray old man with the
strong haggard face, and the girl in whom the girl had died and the
woman had been born, walked on; now with dragging steps, when the stupor
of despair seized her, now swiftly as her thoughts rushed from horror to
horror.

The world, basking in the warmth of that June sun, seemed very peaceful
as they looked out across the long reaches of the flat valley, and on to
the distant town, with the lazy smoke of its factory chimneys floated
above the spires and housetops. But the peace that was breathed out of
the great calm heart of nature was not for these two! The girl's sense
was only one of fierce rebellion at the injustice which was taking--had
taken, perhaps, the life of the man she loved; an injustice that could
never make amends--so implacable in its exactions, so impotent in its
atonements!

They were nearing the limits of the grounds; back of them, among its
trees, loomed the gray stone front of Idle Hour. Her father rested a
hand upon Elizabeth's shoulder.

"I will try to be brave, too--as he was always--" she s