wn, he had not comprehended; he did not fully
comprehend even now. "I am only harsh on account of the way you treat
me," he said; "it galls me to be so completely set aside."

"You can help me only by leaving me, I have told you that."

"But where is the sense--"

"I cannot argue. There may be no sense, but your presence oppresses me."

"You shall not be troubled with it long." He went towards the door. But
he came back. "Give me _one_ reason."

"I have no reason; it is instinct."

He still stood there.

She waited a moment, looking at him. "If you do not leave me, I shall
leave you," she said, "I shall refuse to see you again. You are the best
judge of whether you believe me or not."

"Women _are_ absurd," exclaimed Winthrop; "they must always have vows,
renunciations, eternal partings--nothing less contents them. Oh, I
believe you! you would keep a vow or die for it, no matter how utterly
senseless it might be. Of course I want to see you again; so I will go
now--that is, for a while; I will go back to East Angels."

He took her hand, though she did not extend it. "You have been extremely
unreasonable," he said. Though he obeyed, she should feel that he had
the mastery still.

He left her, and rode back to the hotel. Mr. Moore learned a few hours
later, that he had returned to East Angels.

This had happened three days before. It was now late in the afternoon of
the third day, and the house was prepared for "Mis' Horrel's" departure.
Mr. Moore, standing on the low bank, waved his hand in farewell as the
boat, rowed by two old negroes, carried her down the river.

The five miles seemed short. When the men turned in towards the hotel,
twilight had fallen, the river had a veil of mist. Margaret's eyes
rested vaguely on the shore; suddenly, in a low voice, she said, "Stop!"

The men obeyed. She strained her eyes to see more clearly a figure under
the trees near the landing; it was a man, dressed in gray clothes, he
was walking up and down; they could see him as he moved to and fro, but
he could not see their low boat, pausing out there in the fog.

Margaret appeared to have satisfied herself. "Row out now into the
stream," she said, briefly.

And in a few minutes the shore, left behind them, was but a dark line.

"I have changed my mind, I shall not sleep at the hotel, after all. You
can take me back home--to the house on the point. Then, to-morrow
morning, you can be there again at dawn, and bring me up