itterness out of her voice. When she again
faced him it was to speak quietly, with convincing earnestness.

"Yes, I realize it is too late for explanations," she acknowledged, "so
I will attempt none. I wished you to know, however, that I did not
desert you for that man. This was my principal purpose in sending for
you."

"Do you know where he is?"

She hesitated ever so slightly, yet he, watching her closely, noted it.

"No; at the close of the war he came home, commanding the regiment
which should have been yours. Within three months he had converted all
the family property into cash and departed. There was a rumor that he
was engaged in the cattle business."

"You actually expect me to believe all this--that you knew nothing of
his plans--were not, indeed, a part of them?"

"I am indifferent as to what you believe," she replied coldly. "But
you are ungentlemanly to express yourself so freely. Why should you
say that?"

"Because I chance to know more than you suppose. Never mind how the
information reached me; had it been less authentic you might find me
now more susceptible to your presence, more choice in my language. A
carefully conceived plot drove me from the Confederate service, in
which you were as deeply involved as Le Fevre. Its double object was
to advance him in rank and get me out of the way. The plan worked
perfectly; I could have met and fought either object alone, but the two
combined broke me utterly. I had no spirit of resistance left. Yet
even then--in spite of that miserable letter--I retained faith in you.
I returned home to learn the truth from your own lips, only to discover
you had already gone. I was a month learning the facts; then I
discovered you had married Le Fevre in Richmond; I procured the
affidavit of the officiating clergyman. Will you deny now?"

"No," changing her manner instantly--"what is the use? I married the
man, but I was deceived, misled. There was no conspiracy in which I
was concerned. I did not know where you were; from then until this
afternoon I never saw or heard of you. Molly told me of her rescue by
a soldier named Hamlin, but I never suspected the truth until we drove
by the barracks. Then I yielded to my first mad impulse and sent that
note. If you felt toward me with such bitterness, why did you come
here? Why consent to meet me again?"

"My yielding was to a second impulse. At first I decided to ignore
your note; then came the sec