"'Outside that gate,' he went on quietly, '_I_ shall set the pace, and I do not ride behind.' Still I did not answer. 'Is that the understanding?' "'Ride where you please,' I said. "After that he took command, not roughly or familiarly, but he no longer used the third person, as I had instructed him, in speaking to me. The first time he said 'you' it sent the blood to my face. We were far up the mountain then, and morning was upon us. "I wish to be definite here. From the moment I saw him plainly face to face the illusion was gone. Before, I had seen him by every light but daylight, and generally in profile. The profile is not the man. It is the plan in outline, but the eyes, the mouth, tell what he has made of himself. So attitude is not speech. As a shape in the moonlight he had been eloquent, but once at my side, talking with me naturally--I need not go on! From that moment our journey was to me a dream of horror, a series of frantic plans for escape. "All fugitives on the coast must put to sea. The Oakland ferry would have answered my purpose. I would never have been seen with him in the city--alive. "But at Colfax we met your husband. He knows--you know--the rest." * * * * * In thinking of the one who had first pitied her, pity for herself overcame her, and the proud penitent broke down. Mr. and Mrs. Thorne sat in the shy silence of older persons who are past the age of demonstrative sympathy. The girl rose, and as she passed her hostess she put out her hand. Mrs. Thorne took it quickly and followed her. They found a seat by themselves in a dark corner of the porch. "Your poor, good husband--how tired he is! How patiently you have listened, and what does it all come to?" "Think of yourself, not of us," said Mrs. Thorne. "Oh, it's all over for me. I have had my fight. But you have _him_ to grieve for." "Shall you not grieve for him yourself a little?" The girl sat up quickly. "If you mean do I give him up without a struggle--I do not. But you need not say that to him. I told him that it was all a mistake; I did not--do not love him." "How could you say that"-- "It was necessary. Without that I should have been leaving it to his generosity. Now it remains only to show him how little he has lost." "But could you not have done that without belying yourself? You do--surely you still care for him a little?" "Insatiate mother! Is there any other proof I can give?" "Your hand is icy cold." "And my face is burning hot. Good-night. May I say, 'Now let thy servant depart in peace'?" "I shall not know how to let you go to-morrow, and I do not see, myself, why you should go." "You will--after I am gone." "My dear, are you crying? I cannot see you. How cruel we have been, to sit and let you turn your life out for our inspection!" "It was a free exhibition! No one asked me, and I did not even come prepared, more than seven years' study of my own case has prepared me.