tement took Phyl's breath from her. She turned on him, saw the anger in
his face, and then--turned away.

His state of mind condoned his words. To a woman a blow received from the
passion she has roused is a rude sort of compliment, unlike other
compliments it is absolutely honest.

"I am in love with no one," said she; "you have no right to say such
things--no right at all--they are insulting."

A gull, white as snow, came flitting by and wheeled out away over the
harbour; as her eyes followed it he stood looking at her, his anger gone,
but his mind only half convinced by her feeble words.

"I didn't mean to insult you," he said; "don't let us quarrel. When I'm in
a temper I don't know what I say or do--that's the truth. I want to have
you all for myself, have ever since the first moment I saw you over there
at Grangersons."

"Don't," said Phyl. "I can't listen to you if you talk like that--Please
don't."

"Very well," said Silas.

The quick change that was one of his characteristics showed itself in his
altered voice. His was a mind that seemed always in ambush, darting out on
predatory expeditions and then vanishing back into obscurity.

They turned away from the sea front and began to retrace their steps,
silently at first, and then little by little falling into ordinary
conversation again as though nothing had happened.

Silas knew every corner of Charleston, and the history of every corner,
and when he chose he could make his knowledge interesting. In this mood he
was a pleasant companion, and Phyl, her recent experience almost
forgotten, let herself be led and instructed, not knowing that this
armistice was the equivalent of a defeat.

She had already drawn much closer to him in mind, this companionship and
quiet conversation was a more sure and deadly thing than any kisses or
wild words. It would linger in her mind warm and quietly. Put in a woman's
mind a pleasant recollection of yourself and you have established a force
whose activity may seem small, but is in reality great, because of its
permanency.

They did not take a direct line in the direction of Vernons, and so
presently found themselves in front of St. Michael's. The gate of the
cemetery was open and they wandered in.

The place was deserted, save by the birds, and the air perfumed by all
manner of Southern growing things. Sun, shadow, silence, and that strange
peace which hangs over the homes of the dead, all were here, ringed in by
th