With a swirl and a lurch the coach turned in at an open gateway and drove furiously up to a wide farm-house on a hill behind a circle of elm trees. The driver jumped down and began to unfasten a trunk from behind. Dawn could not see whether it was her own or not, but she took heart from the fact that Charles sat still and steadily held her hand, and that other people were climbing out of the coach below, and talking to a man and woman who came out of the big hall door in a stream of light to greet them. This was not her new home yet, then. There were still a few moments more of grace before her doom should fall. Now she must know. It was her only chance. In a moment more the driver would be back beside them, and perhaps the next stop would end their ride. She leaned over close to Charles and whispered in his ear: "Tell me quick before the driver comes back: will _he_ be there?" The tears were trembling on her lashes. She was glad she was not on the side of the coach next to the house. "Will who be there, dear?" murmured Charles, marvelling at the sweetness of having her so close to him. "Oh, don’t you know?" she said desperately, as if it hurt her to speak the name. "Why—my—Mr. Winthrop—Mr. Harrington Winthrop." It was a pitiful attempt to put into the name the dignity that her position as wife demanded. She was scarcely more than a little girl, and her situation was terrible to her. Charles started and looked down at her. Was she still wanting to see the man who had sought to do her so terrible an injury, or was she dreading to see him? He looked at her and saw fear written in her eyes, and his heart was touched. However she might have felt toward Harrington before, of course now she dreaded having to meet him after what he had done. But whatever had put into her head the idea that he would be there? How strange of Mrs. Van Rensselaer not to have told her that Harrington had gone away on the train with his wife! "No, he will not be there!" he said almost harshly, "I doubt if he is ever there again." There was something in his tone that Dawn could not understand, but she must find out quickly what it all meant, though she was trembling now from head to foot, and scarcely knew what question to ask next. It was all so strange and mixed up. "Then, where—where will I have to meet him?" she asked, grasping his arm with her free hand and watching his face as if her very life depended upon the answer. Charles looked down at her, his whole soul in his eyes. "Never, dear, never. I will guard you from that, at least." "Oh, why!" cried Dawn, more than ever bewildered by his words. "Why—but, how can you? Hasn’t he the right? Wasn’t I married to him this morning? Nobody can keep us apart now, can they? The minister said, ’Till death do you part!’" A long, slow shudder passed over her as she spoke, and though her words were low, lest some one hear, her tone was like the cry of one who had given up for lost.