Rand stood up. "It is done, and all the rueing in the world will not make the breath alight again." With a gesture, singular and decided, he walked to the window and again looked out at the rain and lightning. "If I know--if I know Fairfax Cary--Has the horse been captured--and where? It may be known now, and it may not be known for hours." He stood, reviewing chances, and the shaken soul began to settle to its ancient base. At last he turned. "There's danger enough, but the struggle must be made. If you love me still, I'll find the heart to make it; ay, and to succeed!" Coming back to her, he took her in his arms. "You do love me? That isn't dead?" "I love you, Lewis." "Then, by God, I'll fight it out! Jacqueline, Jacqueline--" She presently freed herself. "What are you going to do--what are you going to do now, Lewis?" "I will tell you what I have done, and where the danger's greatest--" "The danger?" "The danger of discovery." "Lewis--will you not tell them?" "Tell them--" "Is it not--oh, Lewis, is it not the only thing to do? Sin and suffering--yes, yes, the whole world sins and suffers! But oh, ignoble to sin and to reject the suffering!" He stared at her incredulously. "Do you know, Jacqueline,--do you know what you are saying?" "Will it be so hard?" she asked, and put out her arms to him. "It is right." "Let me understand," he said. "When the mist cleared and I saw him lying there, I sat down upon a stone, and I said to myself, 'This is a strange land, and I am to eat the fruits thereof.' For a while I did not think of moving. You would have had me stay there as he stayed, watch there beside him until men came?" She answered almost inaudibly, "It had been nobler." "And then and there to have given myself up?" "Lewis, if it was right--I would have said to God and the world and him, 'It is the least that I can do!'" He stared at her. "By God, the _amende honorable!_" There came blinding lightning, followed by thunder which seemed to shake the room. Rand crossed to the hearth and, with his booted foot upon the iron dogs, rested his arm upon the mantel-shelf and his head upon his hand. "I'll think of that awhile," he said harshly. "That means disgrace and may mean death." He heard the drawing of her breath. There was a knock at the door followed by Mammy Chloe's voice. "De bread an' meat an' wine on de table, marster."