“You sent me no word,” began she, hurriedly.  “I was not expecting you to-day; but you have been gone more than two weeks longer than you said you would be.”  The reproach of her voice was not lost to me.

Stevenson had run on into the tavern after his first greeting to me, and presently I heard his voice raised in surprise, and Kitty’s excited chatter.  I heard Colonel Meriwether’s voice answering.  I heard another voice.

“Who is in there?” asked Grace Sheraton of me, curiously.  I looked her slowly and fully in the face.

“It is Colonel Meriwether,” I answered.  “He has come on unexpectedly from the West.  His daughter is there also, I think.  I have not yet seen her.”

“That woman!” breathed Grace Sheraton, sinking back upon her seat.  Her eye glittered as she turned to me.  “Oh, I see it all now—­you have been with them—­you have met her again! My God!  I could kill you both—­I could—­I say I could!”

“Listen,” I whispered to her, putting a hand on her wrist firmly.  “You are out of your head.  Pull up at once.  I have not seen or heard from either of them.  I did not know they were coming, I tell you.”

“Oh, I say, Cowles,” sang out Stevenson, at that moment running out, flushed and laughing.  “What do you think, here’s my Colonel come and caught me at my leave of absence!  He’s going across the mountains, over to his home in Albemarle.  We’re all to be at Henry together.  But I suppose you met them—­”

“No, not yet,” I said.  “I’ve just got in myself.”

We both turned to the girl sitting pale and limp upon the seat of the wagonette.  I was glad for her sake that the twilight was coming.

The courage of her family did not forsake Grace Sheraton.  I saw her force her lips to smile, compel her face to brighten as she spoke to Captain Stevenson.

“I have never met any of the Meriwethers.  Will you gentlemen present me?”

I assisted her to alight, and at that time a servant came and stood at the horse’s head.  Stevenson stepped back to the door, not having as yet mentioned my presence there.

There came out upon the gallery as he entered that other whose presence I had for some moments known, whom I knew within the moment I must meet—­Ellen!

Her eyes fell upon me.  She stepped back with a faint exclamation, leaning against the wall, her hands at her cheeks as she stared.  I do not know after that who or what our spectators were.  I presume Stevenson went on into the house to talk with Colonel Meriwether, whom I did not see at all at that time.

The first to speak was Grace Sheraton.  Tall, thin, darker than ever, it seemed to me, and now with eyes which flickered and glittered as I had never seen them, she approached the girl who stood there shrinking.  “It is Miss Meriwether?  I believe I should know you,” she began, holding out her hand.

“This is Miss Grace Sheraton,” I said to Ellen, and stopped.  Then I drew them both away from the door and from the gallery, walking to the shadows of the long row of elms which shaded the street, where we would be less observed.