“G. Rodney Moore,” Miss Braithwaite read. “Go out that door, Cis; I’ll see him. Ellen, take Miss Adair through the little passage to the back stairs. Then go down and show Mr. Moore up here. Be quiet, Cicely; this is your last trial, my dear. Go up and say your beads and fear not, my child.” Cis escaped, hurrying away, yet everything in her called upon her to stay. An instant, and she could see Rodney; a word, and they would never part. Rodney Moore came half stumbling into Miss Braithwaite’s library. He found that little lady standing to receive him beside her hearth; the position of the chairs told him that she had not been long alone. Although Miss Braithwaite had never seen Rodney Moore before, she recognized upon his face, in his disordered clothes, the marks of unhappy disturbance of mind. He stopped short seeing her, and said: “I want Cicely Adair.” “I know you do,” said Miss Braithwaite, and there was pity in her voice. “Sit down, Mr. Moore. Miss Adair has asked me to see you for her. She will not be able to endure anything more than she has borne.” “The devil she won’t!” burst out Rodney. “What about me? I don’t count, eh? She can write me a cool note and expect that to satisfy the man who saw her last in the place he was fitting up for her to live in with him? Not much! I’d have been here before, but I didn’t know where she was. She left me; walked off like an oyster, with no heart nor tongue in it, and, when I tried to connect with her, she was gone. They couldn’t tell me anything about her at her boarding house. I found out that was the truth, too, and then I went off to see her old friend, Nan Dowling; I was sure she had run off to her, but no one had seen her there. I read all the papers--you know what I was afraid I’d see in one of ’em! I came back here, half crazy with fear, and I found that damned cool, calm note waiting for me, my ring in it! That Holly ring! So here I am. Bring Cis here. I’ve a right to see her. Don’t you try to keep her off!” “Miss Adair was in this room when your card was brought up, Mr. Moore. She ran away, praying me to keep you from her; she will not see you. It is she, not I, who decides,” said Miss Braithwaite. “You lie!” cried Rodney hoarsely. “Do you suppose I don’t know Cis? Nothing cold-hearted about her! I’ll go through this house till I find her, and when I find her--” He stopped, unable to go on; he had risen, and stood holding to the back of a chair, as if he might flay Miss Braithwaite with it. “You will remain precisely where you are until you leave my house,” said the tiny woman quietly. “You will not step your foot beyond the boundary to which I admit you. You do well to threaten me, and to threaten a suffering girl whom you love! Be seated, Mr. Moore, and listen to me. I am truly sorry for you; it is hard, harder for you than for Cicely, for she suffers for a righteous cause, and you suffer because you are a traitor to that cause.”