But it was only the governor’s secretary who entered the room.  He halted in the doorway and glanced from father to daughter.  There was no mistaking the look on his face.

“How much longer are we to be kept in doubt?” asked General Herbert, in a voice that indicated both his dread and his sense of insult.

“The governor deeply regrets that there should have been this delay—­” began the secretary.

“He is ready to see us now?” General Herbert interrupted.

“I regret—­”

“What do you regret?  Do you mean to tell me that he will not see us?” demanded the general.

“The governor has left town.”

The angry color flamed into the old man’s cheeks.  His sorely tried patience was on the point of giving way, but a cry from the window recalled him.

“Where has he gone?”

“He left for the East at four o’clock,” faltered the secretary, after a moment of wretched irresolution.

The general’s face became white, as his anger yielded to a more powerful emotion.

“Impossible!” he cried.

“The North matter has been left in my hands,” said the secretary haltingly.

The general’s hope revived as he heard this.  He stepped to Elizabeth’s side and rested his hand protectingly on her shoulder.

“You have the governor’s decision?” he asked.

“Yes,” answered the secretary unsteadily.

There was a moment’s silence.

“What is it?” The general’s voice was strained and unnatural.

“He regrets it, but he does not deem it proper for him to interfere with the decision of the court.  He has had the most eminent legal advice in this case—­”

A choking inarticulate cry from Elizabeth interrupted him.

“My God!” cried her father, as Elizabeth’s groping hands clung to him.  He felt the shudder that wrenched her slim body.  “Be brave!” he whispered, slipping his arms about her.

“Oh, father—­father—­” she sobbed.

“We will go home,” said the general.

He looked up from the bowed head that rested against his shoulder, expecting to find the secretary still standing by the door, but that dapper young man had stolen from the room.

“Yes, take me home,” said Elizabeth.

He led her from the house and the door closed behind them on their last hope.  Both shared in the bitter consciousness of this.  They had been brought face to face with the inexorable demands of life, they had been foredoomed to failure from the very beginning.

“Father?” she gasped.

“Yes, dear?” He spoke with infinite tenderness.

“Is there nothing more?”

“Nothing, but to go home.”

Deeply as he felt for her, he knew that he realized only an infinitesimal part of her suffering.

“The governor has refused to interfere?”

“You heard what he said, dear,” he answered simply.