ertrand Saton. I give you that chance.
Find for yourself an honest place in the world, if you can, wherever
you will, so that it be not in this country. Go!"

Saton turned toward the door with a little shrug of the shoulders.

"You need have no fear," he said. "The country into which I go is one
in which you will never be over-anxious to travel."

He passed out, amidst a silence which seemed a little curious when one
considered the emotions which he left behind. Lois' pale face seemed
all aglow with a sort of desperate thankfulness. Already she was in
Vandermere's arms. And then the silence was broken by a woman's
sobbing. They all turned towards her. It was Pauline who had suddenly
broken down, her face buried in her hands, her whole frame shaking
with passion.

Rochester moved towards her, but she thrust him aside.

"You are a brute!" she declared--"a brute!"

She staggered across the room towards the door by which Saton had
departed. Before she could reach it, however, they heard the crunching
of wheels as his car swept by the front on its way down the avenue.

* * * * *

Rochester pushed open the black gate which led from the road into the
plantation at the back of the hill, and they passed through and
commenced the last short climb. No word passed between them. The
silence of the evening was broken only by the faint sobbing of the
wind in the treetops, and the breaking of dried twigs under their
feet. They were both listening intently--they scarcely knew for what.
The far-away rumble of a train, the barking of a dog, the scurrying of
a rabbit across the path--these sounds came and passed--nothing else.

They neared the edge of the plantation. There was only a short climb
now, and a gray stone wall. Rochester passed his arm through his
companion's. Her breath was coming in little sobs.

"We shall be there in a moment, Pauline," he said. "It is only a fancy
of mine. Perhaps he is not here after all, but at any rate we shall
know."

She said nothing. She seemed to be bracing herself for that last
effort. Now they could see the bare rocky outline of the summit of the
hill. A few steps more, and they would pass through the gate. And then
the sound came, the sound which somehow they had dreaded. Sharp and
crisp through the twilight air came the report of a revolver. They
even fancied that they heard a little moan come travelling down the
hillside.

Rochester stopped short.