After that she heard words that had the sound of suppressed screams in them.  She realised that the house mistress was ordering some enemy from her door.  These commands were not obeyed, and Susannah, hearing that the intruder remained, began in fear to suspect the meaning of the intrusion.  As she rose the report of a fire-arm startled her from all the remnants of her selfish dulness, causing her feet to fly.

From within the sitting-room she saw the entrance-hall.  Its door was open to the wide sweep of land that lay in floods of sunshine.  In the light, half turning now to go as he had come, stood Angel Halsey.  Her eager eyes drank in the sight of him, because last night she had thought to see him die.  She saw his quietness even while, it seemed to her, the gun still echoed, and it was Ephraim who held the gun!  Beside Ephraim her aunt stood, like one in a frenzy, her very garments twitching and her gray hair fallen loose.  None of them looked to see the girl within the shaded room.

“Friends,” said Halsey, “I came to say ‘Peace be with this house,’ and to speak with her to whom God has given the spirit of obedience to his truth, but it is written that when any house refuses to receive us we must depart.”

His voice was for some cause growing fainter, but Susannah was certain that the cause was not fear.

He took a letter from his breast.  “I wrote it,” he said, “in case I might not enter to speak with her.”

He gave the letter to Ephraim, who took it reluctantly, as one impelled by some strong sense of right.

Halsey went out.  He tottered upon the path, but he opened the gate and walked on.  Ephraim, still holding the gun and the letter, turned and saw Susannah.

Ephraim’s face was gaunt and haggard as she had never seen it before; his eyes were large, and she thought she read unutterable distress in them, but could not understand.  She held out her hand for the letter, but as he gave it both she and he perceived for the first time that it was stained with blood; they felt mutually the thrill that the sight gave.

He put his hand out suddenly and pushed her within the room.  “Go,” he entreated, “for God’s sake, Susy, go to your own room; take his letter with you if you will, but go.”

Susannah went amazed, but she began to think that Ephraim’s distress had not been a gracious sorrow, but remorse for his own crime.  He must have shot Halsey as he would have shot at some evil beast.  When she had time to remember that Halsey had tottered when he walked, she fled back, straining the blood-stained letter to her breast, and tore open the closed door.  Her aunt was sitting in a low chair sobbing.  Ephraim, bareheaded in the sunshine, was standing on the path shading his eyes to scan the road.  Susannah ran out, not to him (her shame and grief for him were too deep for any word), but with intent to run after the wounded man and nurse his wound.