your
daughter's own property, and she is free to hold or to part with it.
There is no Crown consent to ask, no vice-regal approval needed."

Suddenly he became angry, almost excited. His blood pounded in his
veins. Was this man, Mallow, to come between his and her fate always,
come into his problem at the most critical moment? "God in heaven!" he
said in a burst of passion, "is this a land of the British Empire or is
it not? Why should that man break in on every crisis? Why should he
do this or that--say yea or nay, give or take away! He is the king's
representative, but he is bound by laws as rigid as any that bind you or
me. What has he to do with your daughter or what concerns her? Is there
not enough trouble in the world without bringing in Lord Mallow? If
he--"

He stopped short, for he saw coming from the summerhouse, Sheila with
his paper in her hand. She walked slowly and with dignity. She carried
her head high and firmly, and the skin of her face was shining with
light as she came on. Dyck noticed how her wide skirts flicked against
the flowers that bordered the path, and how her feet seemed scarcely to
touch the ground as she walked--a spirit, a regnant spirit of summer she
seemed. But in her face there was no summer, there was only autumn and
winter, only the bright frost of purpose. As she came, her mother turned
as though to leave Dyck Calhoun. She called to her to wait, and Mrs.
Llyn stood still, anxious. As Sheila came near she kept her eyes fixed
on Dyck. When she reached them, she held out the paper to him.

"It is wonderful," she said quietly, "that which you have written, but
it does not tell all; it does not say that you did not kill my father.
You are punished for the crime, and we must abide by it, even though you
did not kill Erris Boyne. It is the law that has done it, and we cannot
abash the law."

"We shall meet no more then!" said Dyck with decision.

Her lips tightened, her face paled. "There are some things one may not
do, and one of them is to be openly your friend--at present."

He put the letter carefully away in his pocket, his hand shaking, then
flicking an insect from the collar of his coat, he said gently, yet with
an air of warning: "I have been telling Mrs. Llyn about the Maroons up
there"--he pointed towards Trelawney--"and I have advised your going
back to Virginia. The Maroons may rise at any moment, and no care is
being taken by Lord Mallow to meet the danger. If they rise