e. But she was a remarkable woman, and whatever her
feeling, she might be magnanimous enough and big enough at such a
moment, when we were all in equal danger, to lay aside for the nonce her
just resentment. Now we should meet again as though that had not
happened, and I had no hope of seeing her smile on me again.

Probably she had retired and I should not have to meet her until
to-morrow. I rose from the table and turned to Marcus.

"Where do I sleep to-night?" I inquired.

"Your same place, sir," he answered, and when I had said good-night I
turned and walked along the porch and opened the door of the room which
served jointly as parlor and bedroom.

Once more, precisely as on that other night, I halted in surprise.
Indeed, it might have been the other night, except that Weighborne lay
where he had thrown himself down fully dressed across the big bed. But
just as before, he was sleeping, and just as before She sat before the
fire alone, in much the same attitude. On her face was the same trace of
wistful loneliness.

I could not escape the feeling that this was in reality a part of the
other evening--that it had been momentarily interrupted and that all
which had transpired since I had opened this same door in this exact
way, and seen this precise picture, was only the figment of disordered
imagination. But it was now too late to turn back, and after all there
was nothing to gain by deferring the reckoning. The three of us were
here, and it would take only a moment to wake the sleeping man.

I closed the door, and my heart began the wild beating that meeting her
must always bring. As I started across the room she looked up and rose.
I halted where I stood, waiting for her to speak. This evening she wore
a very simple gingham dress, and the chill of the room had led her to
add the sweater. For a breathing space we stood there, she as slender
and youthful as a school-girl; I as awkward and disheveled as a bumpkin,
with my head hanging shamefacedly--awaiting sentence.

Then to my total bewilderment she smiled and held out her hand.

Had she stricken me down with a lightning bolt as the savages thought
she had stricken down the profaning native, I should have been less
astonished. I stood there unable to understand such forgiveness, and
while I waited, she spoke.

"Now," said the voice which had been ringing in my heart ever since I
had last heard it, "will you be good enough to explain things, or are
you still