“Nor did I,” she replied; “he must have come with those troops.” A tremor caught her voice as she recalled that Ackerman was in communication with Isaac, and the cords she had been winding about the man by her side began slowly to tighten around her own throat. He tried to leave her at the door, but she drew him inside. “You can’t go yet.” “I must hurry, my love,” he protested. “Those men will think I’m a coward. I should have been at home when they called.” “Sh!”---- She placed her hand over his lips, ignoring his plea. “I’ve a little experiment to make. My whim is law. Go stand there in the alcove with your hat in your hand fumbling it.” Laughing with girlish excitement she pressed him into the exact spot he stood the night she first met him, drew back, and gazed tenderly into his face, her big brown eyes dancing with the hysterical strain of the deep half-conscious fear for his safety which had begun to strangle her. “Have you forgotten the first scene in the drama of our life?” she asked, slowly approaching him with extended hand. He clasped it with a smile. “I shall not forget it if I live to be a hundred years old,” he said reverently. “And yet, you are trying to hurry away from me to-night again. Don’t you like the picture as well now?” “A thousand times better, dearest,” he cried. “The love that shines in your eyes will make radiant the darkest hour of life. I’ve nothing now to fear. Perfect love has cast out fear. My way’s a shining one whether it leads to a palace or a prison.” “Come into the dining room,” she whispered, leading him through the door and seating herself at the head of the table. “You remember the night we sat together here?” “Do I!” “Would you believe me if I told you that I tried to make you love me that night?” “You said you tried to hate me.” “But we can’t always do what we try--can we?” she asked wistfully. “You did that night I’m sure.” “And yet, I’m failing to-night!” she sobbed, unable to keep back the tears, “just when I’ve told you that I love you, and the joy and wonder of it all has begun to light the world. Before I’ve thought only of myself. To-night I’m thinking only of you, my sweetheart! Just as I’ve learned to speak your name I feel you slipping away from me--oh, John darling, what will they do to you? Tell me--tell me!” “They can only put me in jail to-night.” “But they shall not--they shall not!” she moaned, clinging close to him. “You shall not let them! You shall not leave this house except to fly with me.” Stella’s words choked into sudden silence at the shrill angry notes of Aunt Julie Ann’s voice ringing in the hall: “Git out er dis house, I tells ye, ‘fo I bus’ yo head open wid dis door weight.” “Mind your own business,” snapped the angry reply. “I’se mindin’ my own business. Git out dat door, an’ knock ‘fo yer come in! An’ I lets yer in when I gits ready--when my mistis say yer kin come!”