“Because,” said I, in a fury, “I think you break up your cabinet for that. You will have it how Peg is in some peril of me; you would send Peg to Florida on a pretense to make her safe from me. There you have it. You see I can be the honester and the franker man. I pass you my heart on a spear.” The General arose from the chair into which he had flung himself, and taking me by the two shoulders, would look on me squarely, while I in my turn must gaze into his gray depths. I could see the tears stand in his fine eyes. “Let me tell you one thing,” said he. “I but repeat what you know as well as I, when I say that should you harbor thought of Peg, or look on her in lights other than as the wife of a friend, it would be black disgrace to yourself and to me, and most of all to Peg. And do you think I would not trust you? Man, I need no sentry over you save the sentry of your own conscience, no guard other than the guard your honor sets. You would do no wrong to Peg. It is not you I fear; on your faith I would stake my soul's hope of a meeting I look and long for after death. Will you have my reason now for what I do? It is not to save Peg from you; it is to save Peg from Peg, she goes to Florida. And to save our Peg I'd break a dozen cabinets.” It was now grown dark, and the silent storm swept down more whitely dense than before. I threw a heavy military cloak about me and stepped out into the night. I had no set purpose, no destination; but some sure influence tugged at me, and then the house would seem to choke and its heat to smother me; I wanted the darkness and the coolness and to be alone. Was it some sweet power beckoning my heart, or merely a plain instinct to save and recover myself, one that any hard-struck animal might have had, to thus take me forth into the midst of the blinding storm? My journey through the gathering drifts was not pushed far when, under one of the oil lamps that flanked the road and shed a sickly flare through the thick-falling snow, I beheld a closed carriage drawn up. It was one of those vehicles of hire common of the place, and beyond being better than most, and with two powerful horses that would have looked well hauling a gun in a battery, nothing to mark it. At first glance I thought it had come by some mishap to running gear or axle-tree. As I was for pushing by, quite heedless of the stalled carriage and thinking only on my own broken heart, some one plucked me by the cloak. Wheeling sharply, I saw it was the coachman who had leaped from his box to interrupt me. There would be no mistaking the massive shoulders and easy pose; it was Rivera. “What's this?” said I. “When did you turn whip?” Rivera gave me no words, but motioning towards the carriage, swung again to his place with the reins. As he did so, there came a tap on the glass. Somewhat in a maze, I approached and flung open the door. In the dark depths I made out the vague outlines of a woman. “Get in.” It was Peg's voice.