emphasizing her repulsion. Edmonson looked in amazement at this new
power, to him a new attraction.

The other drew back precipitately a few steps. Then he stopped and stood
looking at her, the questions that he had meant to put so boldly
struggling with something not unlike fear. For Elizabeth's look and tone
were terrible. She was an embodied indignation. At the moment he
believed her Archdale's wife. Her hand pointing toward the door was
turning him beyond the reach of all that was dearest to him. Yet for a
moment it seemed as if he could not resist her, as if he were forever to
be in exile. But he remembered that it was Katie Archdale's world that
was looking at him out of those pitiless eyes, and condemning him. He
had tried so hard to get news of Katie; he had even written her father a
business letter, and had ended it by a covert inquiry for news of her.
Not one word but business had come in the answer. Then, learning that
Elizabeth was here, he had contrived to be sent ashore, for he had been
with Commodore Warren through the siege, had risked meeting Archdale,
had risked everything for this chance of the news he hungered for. He
had been sure that the person whom he recollected as Mistress Royal must
answer whatever questions he might choose to put to her. And now must he
go away starving within sight of food? In desperation he tried to summon
back his assurance.

"Only let me ask you if Katie--Mistress--," he began again, taking a
hasty step toward her. But again she stopped him, and this time without
a word. As he tried to meet her look, gradually his eyes fell. He made
no further effort to speak. Step by step he fell backward, until at a
distance from her he stood still looking at her as if strength failed
him, even to retreat. Elizabeth turned to Edmonson, and gave him the
water left in her cup.

"Is that Harwin?" he asked hoarsely, holding it back from his lips until
she had answered him.

"Yes," she said, as if to end the subject. "Drink. I must go."

He sipped hastily, without thirst, and handed back the cup. "Thank you,"
he said. As she turned away, her hand was trembling again. She swept her
eyes in the opposite direction from Harwin if he should still be there.
Edmonson, after a long glance at her, lay watching him. Here was his
evil genius. But for Harwin what would not have been? In a flash the
future that he had planned, a thousand times more blissful than his
former dreams, came up before him