, 1908-06-11

was merely walking to the gate with
Mr.. Glenarm. 1t is so fine to have him
back again, so unbelievable!"
1t was inst such a polite murmur as
n might employ in speaking to an
old foe at a friends table.
She listened a moment for his stem.
then, apparently satisfied. turned back
toward st. Agatha's. | followed, un-
certain. h~esitating. marking her defin-
lite onward fight. From the folds OF
her cloak stole the faint perfume of
vfolets. The sight of her, the sound
of her voice, combined to create-and
to destroy!-a mood with every step.
was seeking some colorless thing
to say when she spoke over her shout
der:
You are very kind, but | am not
the least afraid, Mr.. Glenarm."
But there is something | wish to
say to you, now that we have met. l
should like"
She slackened her step.
"Yes."
y am going away"
"Yes; of course; you are going
away"
Her tone implied that this was some
thing that had been ordained from the
beginning of time, and did not mat.
ter.
And | wish to say a word about
Mr.. Pickering" I added.
She paused and faced me abruptly.
We were at the edge of the wood,
and the school lay quite rear. She
caught the cloak closer about her and
gave her head a little toss l remem,
bered well, as a trick compelled by
the vagaries of woman's headdress.
II can't talk to you here, MIR. Glen
arm; I had no intention of ever see
ing you again; but I must say this to
you"
Those notes o. Pickering's-I shall
ask Mr.. Glenarm TO give them to you
AS a mark of esteem from me-
She stepped backward as though l
had struck her.
"You risked much for them-and
for him" | went on.
"Mr. Glenarm, | have no intention
OF discussing that, or any other mat
tor with you"
1T is better So"
"But your accusations, the things
you imply, are unjust, infamous"
The quaver in her voice shook my
resolution to deal harshly with her.
IF I had not myself been a wit
ness" ! began.
Yes; you have the conceit of your
own wisdom, / dare say"
But that challenge to follow you,
to break my pledge; my running away,
only TO find that Pickering was close
at my heels; your visit to the tunnel
in search of those notes-don't you
know that those things were a blow
hat hurt? You had been the spirit
of this woodland to me. Through all
these months. from the hour | watch
ed you paddle off into the sunset in
your canoe, the thought of you made
the days brighter-steadied and cheer
ed me, and awakened ambitions that |
had Observation-Disclosures ago.
And this hideous struggle here-it
!; seems so idle, so worse than seles
now! But I'm glad | followed YOU
Pm glad neither fortune nor duty kept
me back, And now l want you to
know that Pickering shall not suffer
" MY lllhb lIdl mas IdDltutu. l
shall not punish him; for your sake
he shall go free"
A sigh so deep that II was like a sob
broke from her. She thrus forth her
hand entreatingly.
why don't you go to him with your
generosity? You are so ready to be-
lieve Ill of me! And | shall not de-
fend myself; but | will say these
things to you, Mr.. Glenarm: | had no
idea, no thought Of seeing him at the
Armstrong's,-it was a surprise to me
and to them-when he telegraphed
he was coming. And when ! went in
to the tunnel there under the wall
that night, / had a purpose-a pur-
pose"
"Yes?" She paused and | bent for.
ward. earnestly waiting for her words.
knowing that here lay her great Of
Tending.
81" was afraid was afraid that
Mr.. Glenarm might o come In time:
that you might be dispossessed-lose
the fight, and | came back with Mr..
Pickering because-that was the
easiest and quickest way-and |
thought some dreadful thing might
happen hereto you"
She turned and ran from me with
the speed of the wind, the cloak flut.
tering out darkly about her. At the
door, under the light Of the lamp, |
was close upon her. Her hand was on
the vesubule latch.