He had no fear of being circumvented by his colleague, and bidding him good-bye, kissed Inez, who came to the door just as his conversation with her father ended, and went down the hill whistling “The girl I left behind me,” while Mr. Rayborne looked after him with a feeling of pain and apprehension. “I have sown the wind and am reaping the whirlwind, and I wish I were dead,” he thought. Then he repeated a name which only the winds heard. “What would _he_ say, and he trusted me so fully. I am glad he don’t know. It would kill him. Nobody knows, but God and Tom. I am glad God knows; it seems as if he would show me some way to stop it.” Just then Inez came to tell him that breakfast was ready, and bathing his hot face and eyes again in the cold water which trickled in a little stream down from the hills, he put on as cheerful a face as possible and went in to meet Fanny just coming downstairs with something in her smile which made him think again of the withered rose leaves and a summer he would have given much to recall. “Where is Mr. Hardy?” Fanny asked, as she missed him from the breakfast table. “He was obliged to go away very early on account of that appointment he told us about. He left a good-bye for you and bade me tell you he might perhaps meet you on the road,” Inez said. “Oh, I hope he will. I grow more and more nervous about the journey,” Fanny replied, glancing at Mr. Rayborne, who was silent and preoccupied. His head ached, he said, and finishing his coffee he left the table and the girls were alone. “He is not himself this morning. He never is when he has one of his hard headaches, and this I guess is worse than usual,” Inez said apologetically. “Tom wanted him to go with him, and I think they had some words about it, for just before he left I heard Tom say ‘I believe you are a coward.’ Queer for father and Tom to quarrel.” Fanny did not reply except to lament that Tom’s engagement must keep him from going with her. “Perhaps father will go,” Inez suggested, and going out to the bench where he sat with his head down she said, “Can’t you go with Miss Prescott as far as Clark’s? The ride will do you good.” Inez could not see how white he grew as he answered, “_I_ go! _I_,—and meet Tom on the road?” She did not know what he meant, and looked at him in wonder. Suddenly starting and brightening up he exclaimed, “It has come to me at last. _You_ shall go to Clark’s and return on the late stage. If there is not room for you inside you can go on the box with the driver. That’s the best place for you. Keep your eyes out everywhere, and if a bandit attacks you, don’t throw up your hands, but scream in your natural voice.” Inez could not understand why he was giving her so many directions. She only knew she was delighted to go. “I cannot be of use like Tom, if anything happened,” she said to Fanny, “but father has told me what to do, and I’m not afraid.”