me at my leave of absence! He's going across the mountains, over
to his home in Albemarle. We're all to be at Henry together. But I
suppose you met them--"

"No, not yet," I said. "I've just got in myself."

We both turned to the girl sitting pale and limp upon the seat of the
wagonette. I was glad for her sake that the twilight was coming.

The courage of her family did not forsake Grace Sheraton. I saw her
force her lips to smile, compel her face to brighten as she spoke to
Captain Stevenson.

"I have never met any of the Meriwethers. Will you gentlemen present
me?"

I assisted her to alight, and at that time a servant came and stood at
the horse's head. Stevenson stepped back to the door, not having as yet
mentioned my presence there.

There came out upon the gallery as he entered that other whose presence
I had for some moments known, whom I knew within the moment I must
meet--Ellen!

Her eyes fell upon me. She stepped back with a faint exclamation,
leaning against the wall, her hands at her cheeks as she stared. I do
not know after that who or what our spectators were. I presume Stevenson
went on into the house to talk with Colonel Meriwether, whom I did not
see at all at that time.

The first to speak was Grace Sheraton. Tall, thin, darker than ever, it
seemed to me, and now with eyes which flickered and glittered as I had
never seen them, she approached the girl who stood there shrinking. "It
is Miss Meriwether? I believe I should know you," she began, holding out
her hand.

"This is Miss Grace Sheraton," I said to Ellen, and stopped. Then I drew
them both away from the door and from the gallery, walking to the
shadows of the long row of elms which shaded the street, where we would
be less observed.

For the first time in my life I saw the two together and might compare
them. Without my will or wish I found my eyes resting upon Ellen.
Without my will or wish, fate, nature, love, I know not what, made
selection.

Ellen had not as yet spoken. "Miss Sheraton," I repeated to her finally,
"is the lady to whom I am engaged to be married."

The vicious Sheraton temper broke bounds. There was more than half a
sneer on my fiancee's face. "I should easily know who this lady is," she
said.

Ellen, flushed, perturbed, would have returned to the gallery, but I
raised my hand. Grace Sheraton went on. "An engagement is little. You
and he, I am advised, lived as man and wife, forgetting that he and I
were alre