ought of me, most rightly, most justly! Now we are
almost friends again,--the thing I've prayed for, longed for, wept for,
since that June! Was this not worth the waiting? There is something here
that I do not understand. Why should you so greatly care to see these
lands? Say that there is some money lost and some vexation--what does
that count against this nearing home--this making friends?" She struck
her hands together. "And yet--and yet if we had gone, there would not
have been this day, this quarrel, and this challenge! There would not be
this day to come, when I shall hear what, from now till then I'll dream
I hear! O Christ, I heard them then, the pistol shots! Why did we not
go, Lewis, days ago?"

"Now you are weeping," said Rand, "and that will ease your heart. Could
I have helped it, I would not have told you of this quarrel. You could
not, however, have failed to hear; it was a public thing, and the town
is buzzing with it. See, Jacqueline, I am no longer passionate. The dog
is down. The mistake, if mistake it was, is made; we are not over the
mountains; we are here in Albemarle, at Roselands, underneath the beech
tree. I was never one to weep for spilt milk. This way is stopped, and
this moment foreclosed. Well, there are other moments and other ways!
The sun is down and the night falls dark and cold. Come, dry your eyes!"

"That is soon done. The thorn is in my heart."

"I will draw it out," he answered. "I'll draw it out with love. Don't
think that Ludwell Cary can hurt me; it's not within his kingdom. Do not
grieve that men are enemies; smile and say, 'It will be so a few years
longer!' I am glad with all my heart that you are friends again with all
at Fontenoy. As for this journey, I stayed for you, Jacqueline. It was
needful for me to go, but I stayed that you might part friends with your
kindred. Remember it one day."

"Why," she cried,--"why did you not go without me? You would not have
been long gone, and I should have waited your return there at Fontenoy!
Then this day and this quarrel would not have come! Ludwell Cary and you
to meet--O God!"

"I did not wish to go without you. You do not understand--but trust me,
Jacqueline; trust me, trust me!" He took her in his arms. "Come, now! It
is twilight, and there's a dreariness in these fallen leaves. Come
indoors to the fire and the light, and the books and the harp. Deb
arrived to-day, did she not?"

"Yes; she is somewhere with Miranda. They hav