Barksdale reflected a few moments, and then said, slowly: "Slander is a curious thing, Mr. Morgan. People who do not believe it will repeat it. I think if I were you I would clear up all these matters by submitting to an interview with a reporter. In that you can place your own and family history before the public and end all talk." Edward was pale, but this was the suggestion that he had considered more than once. He shook his head quickly. "I disagree with you. I think it beneath the dignity of a gentleman to answer slander by the publication of his family history. If the people of this city require such statements from those who come among them, then I shall sell out my interest here and go abroad, where I am known. This I am, however, loath to do; I have a few warm friends here." Barksdale extended his hand. "You will, I hope, count me among them. I spoke only from a desire to see you fairly treated." "I have reason to number you among them. I am going to Paris shortly, I think, with Mrs. Montjoy. Her eyesight is failing. I will be glad to see you again before then." "With Mrs. Montjoy?" exclaimed Barksdale. "Yes; the matter is not entirely settled yet, but I do not doubt that she will make the trip. Miss Montjoy will go with us." Barksdale did not lift his eyes, but was silent, his hand toying with his glass. "I will probably call upon you before your departure," he said, as he arose. CHAPTER XXXII. THE FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPH. Twilight was deepening over the hills and already the valleys were in shadow when Edward reached Ilexhurst. He stood for a moment looking back on the city and the hills beyond. He seemed to be laying aside a sweeter life for something less fair, and the old weight descended upon him. After all was it wise to go forth, when the return to the solitude of a clouded life was inevitable? There was no escape from fate. In the east the hills were darkening, but memory flashed on him a scene--a fair-faced girl, as he had seen her, as he would always see her, floating upon an amethyst stream, smiling upon him, one hand parting the waters and over them the wonders of a southern sunset.