There was an inarticulate sound in his throat, and striding forward he landed a smashing blow on Rance Belmont’s averted face.

“Oh, Fred!” Evelyn cried, springing forward, “for shame!—­how could you!—­how dare you!—­”

“Don’t talk to me of shame!” Fred cried, his face white with anger.

“Don’t blame her,” Rance said in a low voice.  He made no attempt to defend himself.

In her excitement Evelyn did not notice the sinister significance of his words and what they implied.  She was conscious of nothing only that Fred had insulted her by his actions, and her wrath grew as terrible as her husband’s.

She caught him by the shoulder and compelled him to look at her.

“Fred,” she cried, “do you believe—­do you dare to believe this terrible thing?”

She shook him in her rage and excitement.

Rance Belmont saw that Fred would be convinced of her innocence if he did not gain his attention, and the devil in him spoke again, soft, misleading, lying words, part truth, yet all false, leaving no chance for denial.

“Don’t blame her—­the fault has all been mine,” he interposed again.

In her blind rage again Evelyn missed the significance of his words.  She was conscious of one thought only—­Fred had not immediately craved her pardon.  She shook and trembled with uncontrollable rage.

“I hate you, Fred!” she cried, her voice sounding thin and unnatural.  “I hate you!  One minute ago I believed you to be the noblest man on earth; now I know you for an evil-minded, suspicious, contemptible, dog!—­a dog!—­a cur!  My father was right about you.  I renounce you forever!”

She pulled the rings from her finger and flung them against the window, cracking the glass across.  “I will never look on your face again, I hope.  This is my reward, is it, for giving up everything for you?  I boasted of your trust in me a minute ago, but you have shamed me; you have dragged my honor in the dust, but now I am free—­and you may believe what you please!”

She turned to Rance Belmont.

“Will you drive me to Brandon to-night?” she asked.

She put on her coat and hat without a word or a look at the man, who stood as if rooted to the ground.

Then opening the door she went out quickly, and Rance Belmont, with something like triumph on his black face, quickly followed her, and Fred Brydon, bruised in body and stricken in soul, was left alone in his desolate house.

CHAPTER X.

DA’S TURN.

The wind was whistling down the Black Creek Valley, carrying heavy flakes of snow that whirled and eddied around them, as Rance Belmont and Evelyn made their way to the Stopping-House.  The stormy night accorded well with the turmoil in Evelyn’s brain.  One point she had decided—­she would go back to her father, and for this purpose she asked her companion if he would lend her one hundred dollars.  This he gladly consented to do.