it had never broken till then. Why did he not turn to see her
waiting there--stricken motionless and voiceless, wild to give the lie
to those cold, strange words?

"Then, Neale--if you will not accept anything from me, let us terminate
this painful interview," said Allison Lee.

"I'm sorry. I only wanted to tell you--and ask to see--Allie--a moment,"
replied Neale.

"No. It might cause a breakdown. I don't want to risk anything that
might prevent my taking the next train with her."

"Going to take her--back East?" asked Neale, as if talking to himself.

"Certainly."

"Then--I--won't see her!" Neale murmured, dazedly.

At this juncture General Lodge stepped out. His face was dark, his mouth
stern.

His action caused a breaking of the strange, vise-like clutch--the mute
and motionless spell--that had fallen upon Allie. She felt the gathering
of tremendous forces in her; in an instant she would show these stupid
men the tumult of a woman's heart.

"Lee, be generous," spoke up General Lodge, feelingly. "Let Neale see
the girl."

"I said no!" snapped Lee.

"But why not, in Heaven's name?"

"Why? I told you why," declared Lee, passionately.

"But, Lee--that implication may not be true. We didn't read all that
letter," protested General Lodge.

"Ask him."

Then the general turned to Neale. "Boy--tell me--did this Stanton woman
love you--did you strike her? Did you--" The general's voice failed.

Neale faced about with a tragic darkening of his face. "To my shame--it
is true," he said, clearly.

Then Allie Lee swept forward. "Oh, Neale!"

He seemed to rise and leap at once. And she ran straight into his arms.
No man, no trouble, no mystery, no dishonor, no barrier--nothing could
have held her back the instant she saw how the sight of her, how the
sound of her voice, had transformed Neale. For one tumultuous, glorious,
terrible moment she clung to his neck, blind, her heart bursting. Then
she fell back with hands seeking her breast.

"I heard!" she cried. "I know nothing of Beauty Stanton's letter.... But
you didn't shoot her. It was Larry. I saw him do it."

"Allie!" he whispered.

At last he had realized her actual presence, the safety of her body
and soul; and all that had made him strange and old and grim and sad
vanished in a beautiful transfiguration.

"You know Larry did it!" implored Allie. "Tell them so."

"Yes, I know," he replied. "But I did worse. I--"

She saw him shaken by an agony