Though still somewhat weak from my wound and confinement, after dinner that Sunday I repaired to Gloucester Street.  From the window she saw me coming, and, bare-headed, ran out in the cold to meet me.  Her eyes rested first on the linen around my throat, and she seemed all in a fire of anxiety.

“I had thought you would come to-day, when I heard you had been to South River,” she said.

I was struck all of a sudden with her looks.  Her face was pale, and I saw that she had suffered as much again as I. Troubled, I followed her into the little library.  The day was fading fast, and the leaping flames behind the andirons threw fantastic shadows across the beams of the ceiling.  We sat together in the deep window.

“And you have forgiven me, Richard?” she asked.

“An hundred times,” I replied.  “I deserved all I got, and more.”

“If I had not wronged and insulted you—­”

“You did neither, Patty,” I broke in; “I have played a double part for the first and last time in my life, and I have been justly punished for it.”

“’Twas I sent you to the Coffee House,” she cried, “where you might have been killed.  How I despise myself for listening to Mr. Allen’s tales!”

“Then it was Mr. Allen!” I exclaimed, fetching a long breath.

“Yes, yes; I will tell you all.”

“No,” said I, alarmed at her agitation; “another time.”

“I must,” she answered more calmly; “it has burned me enough.  You recall that we were at supper together, with Betty Tayloe and Lord Comyn, and how merry we were, altho’ ’twas nothing but ‘Dorothy’ with you gentlemen.  Then you left me.  Afterwards, as I was talking with Mr. Singleton, the rector came up.  I never have liked the man, Richard, but I little knew his character.  He began by twitting me for a Whig, and presently he said:  ’But we have gained one convert, Miss Swain, who sees the error of his ways.  Scarce a year since young Richard Carvel promised to be one of those with whom his Majesty will have to reckon.  And he is now become,’ —­laughing,—­’the King’s most loyal and devoted.’  I was beside myself.  ‘That is no subject for jest, Mr. Allen,’ I cried; I will never believe it of him!’ ‘Jest!’ said he; I give you my word I was never soberer in my life.’  Then it all came to me of a sudden that you sat no longer by the hour with my father, as you used, and you denounced the King’s measures and ministers no more.  My father had spoken of it.  ’Tell me why he has changed?’ I asked, faltering with doubt of you, which I never before had felt.  ‘Indeed, I know not,’ replied the rector, with his most cynical smile; unless it is because old Mr. Carvel might disinherit a Whig.  But I see you doubt my word, Miss Swain.  Here is Mr. Carroll, and you may ask him.’  God forgive me, Richard!  I stopped Mr. Carroll, who seemed mightily surprised.  And he told me yes, that your grandfather had said but a few days before, and with joy, that you were now of his Majesty’s party.”