And the woman who had caused it all was walking the floor of her own apartment in a fever of impatience. If the man she expected would only come--then she would have work to do--definite plans to follow; now all was so vague, and those soldiers staying over, was it only a chance invitation, or was there a hidden purpose in that retained guard? Her messenger should have arrived within an hour of Colonel McVeigh, and the hour was gone. As she passed the mirror she caught sight of her anxious face in it, and halted, staring at the reflection critically. "You are turning coward!" she said, between her closed teeth. "You are afraid to be left to yourself an hour longer--afraid because of this man's voice and the touch of his hand. Aren't you proud of yourself--you! He is the beast whose name you hated for years--the man for whom that poor runaway was taught the graces and accomplishments of white women--in this house you heard Matthew Loring mention the price of her and the portion to be forfeited to Kenneth McVeigh because the girl was not to be found. Do you forget that? Do you think I shall let you forget it? I shan't. You are to do the work you came here to do. You are to have no other interest in the people of this house." She continued her nervous walk back and forth across the room. She put aside the grey habit and donned a soft, pretty house-gown of the same color. Her hands were trembling. She clasped and unclasped them with a despairing gesture. "It is not love," she whispered, as though in wild argument against the fear of it. "Not love--some curse in the blood--that is what it is. And to think that after three years--three years!--it all comes back like this. Oh, you fool, you fool! Love," she continued, in more clear, reasoning tones, speaking aloud slowly as though to impress it on her mind, as a child will repeat a lesson to be learned; "love must be based on respect--what respect can you have for this buyer of young girls?--this ardent-eyed animal who has the good fortune, to be classed as a gentleman. Love in a woman's heart should be her religion; what religion could be centered on so vile a creature? To look up to such a man, how low a woman would have to sink." Evilena knocked at the door to show some little gift brought by her brother from across the ocean, and Judithe turned to her feverishly, glad of some companionship to drive away her dread and suspense until the expected messenger arrived--the minutes were as long as hours, now!