I did not answer, knowing that she saw the full cruelty of the
predicament. What happiness remained to her now of a battered life stood
squarely in the way of her son's happiness. That was the issue, and no
advice or aid of mine could change it. There was another silence that
seemed to me an eternity as I watched, a helpless witness, the struggle
going on within her. At last she got to her feet, her face turned to the
shadow.

"I will go, David," she said. Her voice was low and she spoke with a
steadiness that alarmed me. "I will go."

Torn with pity, I thought again, but I could see no alternative. And
then, suddenly, she was clinging to me, her courage gone, her breast
shaken with sobs. "Where shall I go?" she cried. "God help me! Are
there no remote places where He will not seek me out? I have tried them
all, David." And quite as suddenly she disengaged herself, and looked at
me strangely. "You are well revenged for Temple Bow," she said.

"Hush," I answered, and held her, fearing I knew not what, "you have not
lacked courage. It is not so bad as you believe. I will devise a plan
and help you. Have you money?"

"Yes," she answered, with a remnant of her former pride; "and I have an
annuity paid now to Mr. Clark."

"Then listen to what I say," I answered. "To-night I will take you to
New Orleans and hide you safely. And I swear to you, whether it be right
or wrong, that I will use every endeavor to change Nick's feelings
towards you. Come," I continued, leading her gently into the path, "let
us go while there is yet time."

"Stop," she said, and I halted fearfully. "David Ritchie, you are a good
man. I can make no amends to you,"--she did not finish.

Feeling for the path in the blackness of the wood, I led her by the hand,
and she followed me as trustfully as a child. At last, after an age of
groping, the heavy scents of shrubs and flowers stole to us on the night
air, and we came out at the hedge into what seemed a blaze of light that
flooded the rows of color. Here we paused, breathless, and looked. The
bench under the great tree was vacant, and the garden was empty.

It was she who led the way through the hedge, who halted in the garden
path at the sound of voices. She turned, but there was no time to flee,
for the tall figure of a man came through the opposite hedge, followed by
a lady. One was Nicholas Temple, the other, Mademoiselle de St. Gre.
Mrs. Temple's face alone was in the shadow, and as I felt