nk we had better go?" he went on. "It won't hurt
him"--indicating the motionless body--"to stay here--the brute!"

But as he spoke, with some constraint, her eyes, full of doubts, met
his, and he felt a flush mantle his face. The incongruity of his
position appealed forcibly to him. Had he not been watching and
following her himself? Seeing her helpless, alone, in the silent spot,
where she had unconsciously lingered too long, had he not been almost
on the point of addressing her? Moved by vague desires, had he not
already started impetuously toward her, when the man from the river
had come rollicking along and insinuated himself after his fashion in
the other's role?

And at the sight--the fleeing girl, the drunken, profane waterman!--how
his heart had leaped and his body had become steel for the encounter;
an excess of vigor for a paltry task! Jack, as he called himself, might
have been a fighting-man earlier in the day, but now he had gone down
like straw. When the excitement of this brief collision was over,
however, the land baron found his position as unexpected as puzzling.

As these thoughts swiftly crossed his mind, he could not forbear a
bitter laugh, and she, walking more quickly toward the gate, regarded
him with inquiry, not perhaps unmingled with apprehension. A picture
of events, gone by, arose before her like a menacing shadow over the
present. He interpreted her glance for what it meant, and angry that
she doubted him, angry with himself, said roughly:

"Oh, you haven't anything to fear!"

Her answering look was so gentle, so sad, an unwonted feeling of
compunction seized him; he repented of his harshness, and added less
brusquely:

"Why did you remain so late?"

"I did not realize how late it had become."

"Your thoughts must have been very absorbing!" he exclaimed quickly,
his brow once more overcast.

Not difficult was it for him to surmise upon whom her mind had been
bent, and involuntarily his jaw set disagreeably, while he looked at
her resentfully. In that light he could but dimly discern her face.
Her bonnet had fallen from her head; her eyes were bent before her, as
though striving to penetrate the gathering darkness. With his sudden
spell of jealousy came the temptation to clasp her in his arms in that
silent, isolated place, but the figure of the sailor came between him
and the desire, while pride, the heritage of the gentleman, fought
down the longing. This self-conquest was not a