I completed my purchases, arranged for their transportation and returned to Jacksonville.  I arrived in the evening and went at once to Reverdy’s.  I had been gone a week.  All were here to greet me.  But Zoe was subdued in manner.  Her smile was forced.  She avoided me, going in and out of the room about the work of clearing the table.  She did not pause to listen to the story of my trip.  Was she perhaps ill?  Reverdy and Sarah prevailed upon me to stay over night.  And I did; but early the next morning all of us went to the country together; for Reverdy was now pushing the house to completion.

When we arrived at the hut, as Zoe remained silent and subdued, I began to question her.  She protested at first that nothing was the matter; but I knew better, and I persisted in my attempts to draw her out.  She began to cry at last.  She came to me and rested her head on my shoulder.  “Tell me now,” I urged.  And she relieved herself of the secret in broken words, in half-formed phrases.

She had gone walking one night with Lamborn.  He had led her into the woods in search of a rabbit’s nest he said was there.  He had seized her, put his hand over her mouth, threatened her with harm, with being sold down South.  He had overcome her.  She had returned to Reverdy’s afraid to tell him what had happened.  She did not know what Lamborn would do to her if Reverdy went after him.  She felt that she was in the wrong for having gone walking with Lamborn, and that she would be blamed by Sarah.  Therefore she had not told her secret before.  She was sure that neither Sarah nor Reverdy suspected it.

What was I to do?  I could not conceive of a wrong like this going unpunished.  But my brain refused to plan, to think out what was best to do.  I did not know the community well enough, nor enough of the laws to make a decision by myself.  I decided that I must consult with Reverdy.  I hurried away from Zoe, telling her on no account to leave the hut; and went to find Reverdy.  He was at work on my house, looked at me wonderingly as if to question what had brought me over so soon.  I drew him aside and told him what I knew.

Reverdy’s blue eyes grew terribly deep.  They darkened like clouds in a rapidly gathering storm.  They were full of comprehending compassion.  They expressed alarm, but also an inexorable sense of futility, as if there was nothing to be done.  He was silent.  He had fought the Indians; he was used to the rough life of the West.  He did not betray fear; rather he acted as if there was nothing to be done.  When he began to speak that was the tenor of his words.  He revealed to me possibilities that I had never dreamed of.  I could see that I was caught in unforeseen circumstances.  Some of the dangers involved in the situation he only hinted at.  For example, the matter of my living with Zoe.  There might be people in Jacksonville who believed that my attitude toward Zoe was not of a brotherly nature.  Such