"Nothing. I was only going to say that perhaps it will be just as well not to mention me--unless he does so first." There was that in her hesitating utterance which awakened the Colonel's attention and curiosity. "But why not, Margaret?" he questioned. "Surely it is about you he will be most eager to hear." "If so he will ask. If he doesn't, I beg of you--" "Why, surely you've heard from him frequently during this trouble--and you've written to him?" "I've written to him, yes." "And he has written to you, of course?" The girl stood silent, while she plucked honeysuckles from the vines that shrouded the porch in which they stood, and nervously pulled them to pieces. "Answer me, child," the Colonel said in a tone of command. "Hasn't Boyd Westover written to you during all this trouble?" "I have received no letter from him," she answered hesitatingly. "Do you mean that he hasn't written to you of his arrest, trial and all the rest of it, of his vindication and--" "I have had no letter from him," she repeated. "Hasn't he even offered you a release from your engagement?" "I have had no letter from him," she said again, but this time she lost her self control and blurted out the thought that had troubled her for many days. "Oh Father," she said, seizing his arm as if to detain him, "there has been some cruel mistake, some miscarriage, something, I don't know what. I only know that Boyd Westover is a gentleman and would never have neglected such a duty." "As he _has_ neglected it, he is unworthy of a gentleman's recognition, Margaret. I shall not go near him." "You are judging him unheard," she promptly and passionately answered; "and oh, Father, that isn't like you, because it is unworthy, and nothing unworthy or unjust is like you. I beg of you, give him a chance. You need do nothing but make a call. The explanation will follow--if there is an explanation. If there isn't--well, we shall know." "I'll go, daughter, of course. It is my duty. But I'll force the explanation. I have a right to ask him why, being engaged to marry my daughter, he has sent her no release, in view of the circumstances. That will bring out all there is to say on the subject." At that point in their conversation the father and daughter were interrupted by the advent of "Aunt Betsy," who passed from the house into the porch quite casually, and said to Margaret: "When you have leisure, dear, you'd better see Janet. She has come to say that Diana is much worse this morning and that the doctor, who was in a hurry, left some important written directions out at the quarters." Quick to respond to duty, especially where the sick of the plantation were concerned, Margaret was in the saddle a minute later and galloping toward the "quarters," as the negro village was called in plantation nomenclature. No sooner had her sorrel palfry's white tail flashed its signal of departure through the outer grove, than "Aunt Betsy" turned to her brother, saying: