nd beseeching, this woman faced him like
a queen.

"It is not with _you_ that I have come to speak," he said, his deep
voice a trifle huskier than usual. "I have saved you from open shame and
public scandal. That's enough between you and me. I've nothing more to
do with you, but I've an account to settle with your lover. I deal with
him first, and alone. Where is he?"

"Wait," she said, as he made a movement to turn to the door. "He is no
lover of mine."

"You will tell me, I suppose," he retorted, "that he was hidden
_there_"--he ground his teeth upon the word as if he would crush
it--"without your knowledge and consent?"

"I shall not tell you that."

"No, you dare not. I saw your face. I read it in your eyes before I
opened that door. You dare not tell me you did not know of his
presence?"

"No, I dare tell you the truth--that I did!" she replied, meeting the
fiery glance of his sombre eyes fearlessly. In the midst of his
concentrated rage--and Colonel Jeff in wrath was well known to be
dangerous--he could not help admiring this frail, fair, delicate
woman's dauntless courage. "I had no chance of speaking to you alone,"
she continued, "or I would have told you--explained to you----"

"I want no explanation," he said, harshly, bitterly; "I know enough."

[Illustration: "'STAY!' SHE EXCLAIMED."]

"Stay!" she exclaimed, lifting her fair head with a royal gesture. "That
man, the man whom I helped to a hiding-place to save his life--for you
know they would have killed him, they came here for his death----"

"And if they did," he interposed, "what is his life or death to you?"

"That man," she continued, waving his interruption aside, "did me a
cruel wrong--you know it well. He killed my love for him. Love once dead
rises no more. I have no grain of love left for the man who insulted,
wronged, deserted me. But I tell you now that _he_ wronged me less than
_you_ do if you say to me that you 'know enough!' You do _not_ know
enough. You must know all. Rick, you have said you loved me. You have
made me love you. You shall hear me now!" She spoke not pleadingly, but
with passionate resolution.

"What have you to say?" he rejoined, sternly still, but less bitterly.

"That if you love me you must trust me! If you love me you must respect
me! The woman who could turn a helpless, hunted fugitive--even a
stranger--from her doors would be unworthy of love or respect."

"This man was no stranger!"

"He came to me as