d to know the
road you had taken; then I met some negro children who had seen you
pass, and, farther on, a boy who knew you had come this way; he brought
me here. But I saw you a mile off myself, you are very conspicuous in
that light dress on the top of this mound."

"We had no idea you were coming--"

"I couldn't let you know beforehand, because I came myself as quickly as
a letter could have come; as soon as I knew you would need help, I
started."

"Help?"

"Yes, about Lanse."

"Lanse is not here."

"Oh, I know where he is, he is in Fernandina; established there in the
best rooms the hotel affords, with three attendants, and everything
comfortable. But this time he did not tell me his plans; he arrived in
New York, and then came southward, without letting me know a word of it.
I heard of him, though, almost immediately, and I started at once."

Margaret did not reply.

"You will need help," he went on.

"No, I think not."

"Then he has not written to you?--has made no demands? I shall think
better of him than I had expected to think, if that is the case; I
supposed, from his coming south, that he had intentions of molesting
you."

"It would not be molesting."

"_Has_ he written to you?"

"Yes."

"What demands, then, does he make--is it money?"

"He wishes me to come back to him, as I did before. But he will live
wherever I prefer to live. He is quite willing to leave the choice of
the place to me." She spoke slowly, as though she were repeating
something she had learned.

"Very good. I suppose you told him that wherever you might prefer to
live, there would at least be no place there for Lansing Harold?"

"I haven't told him anything yet. He was willing to wait--he wrote that
he would give me a month."

"A month for what?"

"For my answer," she said, drearily.

"It won't take a month. That is what I have come down for--to answer in
your place."

She began to look about for the best way to descend.

"I sent the boy who brought me here to East Angels for the phaeton; it
will come before long, you won't have to walk back. Now, Margaret, let
us have no more useless words; of course you do not dream of doing as
Lanse wishes?"

"Yes, I think I shall do it."

"Do you mean to tell me that you wish to go back to that man--after all
he has done?"

"I do not wish to. But I must."

"You _shall_ not!" he burst out. His face, usually so calm, was
surprisingly altered; it was reddened and dark