Dazed and astounded, and yet experiencing a vague sense of relief with something like his old tenderness towards the willful woman before him, he had silently regarded her until her allusion to his wife recalled him to himself.

“Hush!” he said quickly, with a glance towards the corridor.

“Ah!” said Susy, with a malicious smile, “then that’s why Captain Pinckney was lingering in the rear with the deputy.”

“Silence!” repeated Clarence sternly.  “Go in there,” pointing to the garden room below the balcony, “and wait there with your husband.”

He half led, half pushed her into the room which had been his business office, and returned to the patio.  A hesitating voice from the balcony said, “Clarence!”

It was his wife’s voice, but modified and gentler—­more like her voice as he had first heard it, or as if it had been chastened by some reminiscence of those days.  It was his wife’s face, too, that looked down on his—­paler than he had seen it since he entered the house.  She was shawled and hooded, carrying a traveling-bag in her hand.

“I am going, Clarence,” she said, pausing before him, with gentle gravity, “but not in anger.  I even ask you to forgive me for the foolish words that I think your still more foolish accusation”—­she smiled faintly—­“dragged from me.  I am going because I know that I have brought—­and that while I am here I shall always be bringing—­upon you the imputation and even the responsibility of my own faith!  While I am proud to own it,—­and if needs be suffer for it,—­I have no right to ruin your prospects, or even make you the victim of the slurs that others may cast upon me.  Let us part as friends—­separated only by our different political faiths, but keeping all other faiths together—­until God shall settle the right of this struggle.  Perhaps it may be soon—­I sometimes think it may be years of agony for all; but until then, good-by.”

She had slowly descended the steps to the patio, looking handsomer than he had ever seen her, and as if sustained and upheld by the enthusiasm of her cause.  Her hand was outstretched towards his—­his heart beat violently—­in another moment he might have forgotten all and clasped her to his breast.  Suddenly she stopped, her outstretched arm stiffened, her finger pointed to the chair on which Susy’s cloak was hanging.

“What’s that?” she said in a sharp, high, metallic voice.  “Who is here?  Speak!”

“Susy,” said Clarence.

She cast a scathing glance round the patio, and then settled her piercing eyes on Clarence with a bitter smile.

“Already!”

Clarence felt the blood rush to his face as he stammered, “She knew what was happening here, and came to give you warning.”

“Liar!”

“Stop!” said Clarence, with a white face.  “She came to tell me that Captain Pinckney was still lingering for you in the road.”

He threw open the gate to let her pass.  As she swept out she lifted her hand.  As he closed the gate there were the white marks of her four fingers on his cheek.