But now I know she changed once again, and I know that this time I read her look aright.  It was pathos on her face, and terror.  Her eye was that of the stricken antelope in dread of the pursuer.

“Jack,” she whispered, “don’t leave me!  Jack, I shall need you!”

Before I could resolve any questions in my mind, I heard behind us the sound of approaching hoofs, and there rode up to the gate her brother, Harry Sheraton, who dismounted and hitched his horse near mine, saluting me as he pushed open the great gate.  It was the first time I had seen him since my return.

“Am I intruding?” he asked.  “I’m awfully glad to see you, Cowles—­I heard below you were home.  You’ve had a long journey.”

“Yes,” I answered, “longer than I had planned, by many weeks.  And now I am glad to be back once more.  No—­” in answer to his turning toward his horse as though he would leave us.  “You are looking well, Harry.  Indeed, everything in old Virginia is good to see again.”

“Wish I could be as polite with you.  Have you been sick?  And, I say, you did meet the savages, didn’t you?”

I knew he meant the scar on the side of my neck, which still was rather evident, but I did not care to repeat the old story again.  “Yes,” I answered a bit shortly, “rather a near thing of it.  I presume Captain Orme told you?” I turned to Miss Grace, who then admitted that she had heard something of the surgery which had thus left its mark.  Harry seemed puzzled, so I saw it was news to him.  Miss Grace relieved the situation somewhat by turning toward the house.

“I am sure you will want to talk with Jack,” she said to him.  “And listen, Harry, you must have him and Mrs. Cowles over here this very evening—­we cannot think of her living alone at the old place.  I shall send Cato down with, the carriage directly, and you may drive over after Mrs. Cowles.”  She held out her hand to me.  “At dinner to-night, then?”

I bowed, saying that we would be very happy, by which I meant that we would be very miserable.

This, then, was all that had been determined by my visit.  I was still an engaged man.  Evidently nothing otherwise had been discussed in the Sheraton family councils, if any such had been held.  If never suitor in Old Virginia rode up in sorrier case than mine that morning, as I came to call upon my fiancee, certainly did never one depart in more uncertain frame of mind than mine at this very moment.  I presume that young Sheraton felt something of this, for he began awkwardly to speak of matters related thereto.

“It’s awfully hard,” he began, “to see strangers there in your own house—­I know it must be hard.  But I say, your father must have plunged heavily on those lands over West in the mountains.  I’ve heard they’re very rich in coal, and that all that was necessary was simply cash or credit enough to tide the deal over till next year’s crops.”

“My father always said there was a great fortune in the lands,” I replied.  “Yes, I think another year would have seen him through; but that year was not to come for him.”