Cally stared at him, speechless.  There was no exaltation now; no more soaring.  Rooted in her tracks she stood, yet seemed to herself to shrink and recoil from him, in her sudden self-horror.  What, oh what, had she done?

And by chance at this very moment—­doubtless through some Settlementer’s opening a door for air—­there came floating down to her the distinct voice of her mother, the strong voice of authority and no nonsense, the voice of Wealth and Permanence, of the victorious knowledge that God thinks twice before he condemns a person of quality.... “In accepting the Chairmanship of the Finance Committee, I desire to say ...”

Cally raised a gloved little hand to her veiled lips.  Plainer than speech her frightened eyes said:  Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?

“You—­you’ve misunderstood.  No ... no!  I didn’t mean that at all.”

“Oh!...  Do you mean—­you don’t wish to see Colonel Dalhousie—­personally?  Of course not!...  It wouldn’t be necessary in the least.  Perhaps you would let me....  And as to a telegram to Dal—­”

“No—­no!...  You mustn’t go to see him.  You mustn’t send a telegram.  I can’t allow that—­you’ve misunderstood entirely. You mustn’t tell anybody....”

They stared at each other with the same colorless faces, and again the rain became audible.  In the man’s too-confiding eyes, hope died hard.

“Not tell anybody?  Why, I don’t see ...  There’s no other way of making it right, I’m afraid....  And you have told me—­”

“But I didn’t tell you to tell anybody else.  I didn’t.  I only meant to tell you, don’t you see?...”

This subtlety was past the vision of the donator of the Dabney House.  North, south, east, or west, he could see nothing but a seraph-faced girl whose misery it was to feel the penitential pangs, yet not be able quite to rise to the fulness of reparation.  That she had reached for that fulness was to him the one thing certain in all the world.  What want of delicacy in him had caused her to falter and look backward?...

Into the lucid gray of his eyes had come that look which more than once before Carlisle Heth had found intolerable.  Little she recked for it now.  Was not this the heart of her present dilemma, that she had already followed his ocular incitements too fatally far?  By what religious prestidigitation he had trapped her secret from her must remain a thick mystery now.  Nothing mattered but that he, having deceitfully seemed to agree that it was all a matter between herself and him, should not now turn and betray her.... Tell now? The sudden vista of scandal horrified her.  How would she ever face mamma again?  How would Hugo, whose bride and pride she was, regard her then?...

“Don’t you see?” she said, with gathering tensity—­“I—­I meant it as a confidence to you.  You mustn’t dream of telling anybody else....”