ight of her now, of her mature beauty displayed in evening dress, of
her white throat gleaming whiter against the severe black of her gown,
made him literally speechless. Never had he accused her of boldness, and
now least of all. It was the quality of her splendid courage that
was borne in upon him once more above the host of other feelings and
impressions, for he read in her eyes a knowledge of the meaning of his
visit.

They stood facing each other an appreciable moment.

"Mr. Langmaid is with him now," she said, in a low voice.

"Yes," he answered.

Her eyes still rested on his face, questioningly, appraisingly, as
though she were seeking to estimate his preparedness for the
ordeal before him, his ability to go through with it successfully,
triumphantly. And in her mention of Langmaid he recognized that she had
meant to sound a note of warning. She had intimated a consultation of
the captains, a council of war. And yet he had never spoken to her of
this visit. This proof of her partisanship, that she had come to him at
the crucial instant, overwhelmed him.

"You know why I am here?" he managed to say. It had to do with the
extent of her knowledge.

"Oh, why shouldn't I?" she cried, "after what you have told me. And
could you think I didn't understand, from the beginning, that it meant
this?"

His agitation still hampered him. He made a gesture of assent.

"It was inevitable," he said.

"Yes, it' was inevitable," she assented, and walked slowly to the
mantel, resting her hand on it and bending her head. "I felt that you
would not shirk it, and yet I realize how painful it must be to you."

"And to you," he replied quickly.

"Yes, and to me. I do not know what you know, specifically,--I have
never sought to find out things, in detail. That would be horrid. But
I understand--in general--I have understood for many years." She raised
her head, and flashed him a glance that was between a quivering smile
and tears. "And I know that you have certain specific information."

He could only wonder at her intuition.

"So far as I am concerned, it is not for the world," he answered.

"Oh, I appreciate that in you!" she exclaimed. "I wished you to know
it. I wished you to know," she added, a little unsteadily, "how much
I admire you for what you are doing. They are afraid of you--they will
crush you if they can."

He did not reply.

"But you are going to speak the truth," she continued, her voice low and
vibra