Alice gradually drew away from Greenleaf’s side, turning her glances from one to the other of the combatants.  She had never seen such confidence, such readiness of invective, joined with such apparent sincerity and ease of manner; and the evident effect of the attack upon Greenleaf puzzled her not a little; in this brief colloquy there were opened new fields for dark conjecture.  The woman’s words had been barbed arrows in her ears.

Greenleaf’s perplexity increased momently.  He dared not go away now; and he knew not how, in Miss Sandford’s presence, to counteract the impression she might make.  If he could get rid of her or shut her wickedly-beautiful mouth, he might answer all she had so artfully thrown out.  But as Alice had not given any token of returning affection, he could not presume upon his good standing with her and remain silent.  Growing desperate, he ventured once more.

“Miss Sandford, I know very well the depth of your hate towards me, as well as your capacity for misrepresentation.  If you desire to have the history of our intimacy dragged to the light, I, for my part, am willing.  But don’t think your sex will screen you, if you continue the calumnies you have begun.—­You, Alice, must judge between us.  And in almost every point, Mrs. Sandford, your friend and her sister-in-law, will be able to support my statements.”

The servant returned to say that “Mrs. Sandford must be excused.”

Greenleaf turned upon the adversary with a triumphant glance.

“A palpable trick,” she exclaimed.  “You gave the servant a signal:  you were unwilling to have us confronted.  You have filled her ears with scandal about me.”

“Not a word; she can hear a plenty about you in any circle where you are known, without coming to me.  And so far from giving any signal, I should be rejoiced to show Alice how easily an honest woman’s testimony will put your monstrous effrontery to shame.”

Alice here interposed,—­her resolute spirit manifest in spite of her trembling voice,—­

“I have heard this too long already; I don’t wish to be the subject of this lady’s jests, and I don’t desire her advice.  Your quarrel does not concern me,—­at least, not so deeply that I wish to have it repeated in my presence.  Mr. Greenleaf, let me bid you good-morning.”

She moved away with a simple dignity, bowing with marked coolness to the former rival.

“Stay, Alice,” said Greenleaf.  “Let me not be thrust aside in this way.  Miss Sandford, now that she has done what mischief she can, will go away and enjoy the triumph.  I beg of you, stay and let me set myself right.”

Miss Sandford laughed heartily,—­a laugh that made Greenleaf shiver.

“Not to-day, Mr. Greenleaf,” she answered.  “I have need of rest and reflection.  I am not used to scenes like this, and my brain is in a whirl.”

The first flush of excitement was over, and it was with difficulty that she found her way through the hall.  Easelmann was coming down, and saw her hesitating step and her tremulous grasp upon the rail; he sprang down four steps at a time, caught her before she fell, and carried her in his arms like a child up to Mrs. Sandford’s room.