“This is the end of me,” he said. He spoke quietly and in a flat, even tone as a man might speak who knew that he was giving up everything in life worth having. “I’ll not offend again. But—after I’d kissed you—you had to know. I couldn’t let you think it anything less than it was, the going out to you of a heart that I could no longer control.” “In dishonor!” “If you will have it so. The dishonor is mine. You are untouched by it.... Now, let us get to other matters. Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then you can follow me back?” he said. “Where?” “To the Farmhouse.” “I’ll never go back to the Farmhouse.” “You must. I’m going away on this train.” “What good would that do? Haven’t you read my note to you?” “Of course. Otherwise I shouldn’t have got on your trail.” “Then you must know that I’ve written the whole thing to Helen Wood, and even if I wanted to go back, now—” “Dismiss that letter from your mind. I got it, on my way here.” “_You_ took my letter to Helen? Did you read it?” “Do you think me dishonorable in everything?” he returned quietly. “Oh, I’m sorry!” cried the girl impetuously. “I don’t think you dishonorable. I know you’re not. I don’t know what to think or do.” “Take this light and hurry back to the Farmhouse. I’ve still got time for the train. Or I’ll take you back and make the morning train.” “One thing I cannot and will not do: spend another night at the Farm.” “Is that your last word?” “Yes.” Obstinacy itself was in the monosyllable. “Then I’ll go with you to Meredith.” “I won’t let you.” “I’ll go,” he retorted in a tone which ended that discussion. Under his guidance and in silence they regained the main road. At Center Harbor he succeeded in getting a team to take them the rest of the way. Not until the end of the journey did Darcy speak to him. “What shall you do now?” “I don’t know. Go somewhere,” said he gloomily. “You must go back.” “Boulder Brook—without you?” he said passionately. “But where else can you go?” “It doesn’t matter.” They stood in silence until her train pulled in. “I shan’t see you again, shall I?” he said wretchedly. “You’ve made it impossible. Oh, why did you do it?” she wailed softly. With no further word she turned from him and went into the car. Remsen stood, dazed with misery. Forward, something was shunted from an express car with a heavy crash. There was a babel of voices, a moment’s delay. Darcy flashed out upon the steps again, her eyes starry. Remsen jumped to meet her. She caught his hands in hers with a swift, forgiving little pressure. “I couldn’t leave you so,” she said tremulously. “You’ve been too good to me. Good-bye, and—forget.” Before he could answer she was gone again. Until the tail-light of the train glimmered into obscurity around the curve, Remsen stood uncovered in the gale. Then he turned to the miles of lonely road. CHAPTER XVIII