I think I must have been crazy with mad excitement, and her answer made me worse. "You were not afraid to come here," I said. "You can go from here as well. Thunder will not hurt such as you." Even then she did not move, but crouched in a corner of the room farthest from me, reminding me of my kitten when I try to drive it from a place where it has been permitted to play. As that will not understand my _'scats_ and gestures so she did not seem to comprehend my meaning. But I made her at last, and with a very white face and a strange look in her great staring blue eyes, she said: "Fanny," (she always called me Miss Frances before). "Fanny, do you really mean me to go back in the dark, and the rain and the thunder? Then I will, but I must tell you first what I came for, and you will tell Guy. He gave me ten thousand dollars when we first were married; settled it on me, they called it, and father was one of the trustees, and kept the paper for me till I was of age. So much I understand, but not why I can’t give it back to Guy, for father says I can’t. I never dreamed it was mine after the—the—the divorce." She spoke the word softly and hesitatingly, while a faint flush showed on her otherwise white face. "If I am not Guy’s wife, as they say, then I have no right to his money, and I told father so, and said I’d give it back, and he said I couldn’t, and I said I could and would, and I wrote to Guy about it, and told him I was not so mean, and father kept the letter, and I did not know what I should do next till I was invited to visit Aunt Merriman in Detroit. Then I took the paper,—the _settlement_, you know, from the box where father kept it, and put it in my pocket; here it is; see—" and she drew out a document and held it toward me while she continued: "I started for Detroit under the care of a friend who stopped a few miles the other side, so you see I was free to come here if I liked, and I did so, for I wanted to see Guy and give him the paper, and tell him I’d never take a cent of his money. I am sorry he is sick. I did not think he’d care so much, and I don’t know what to do with the paper unless I tear it up. I believe I’d better; then surely it will be out of the way." And before I could speak or think she tore the document in two, and then across again, and scattered the four pieces on the floor. "Tell Guy, please," she continued, "what I have done, and that I never meant to take it, after—after—_that_,—you know,—and that I did not care for money only as father taught me I must have it, and that I am sorry he ever saw me, and I never really wanted to be married and can’t be his wife again till I do." She spoke as if Guy would take her back of course if she only signified her wish to come, and this kept me angry, though I was beginning to soften a little with this unexpected phase of her character, and I might have suffered her to stay till morning if she had signified a wish to do so, but she did not.