Without a word the officer passed into the hall, and began the descent.  Before he had reached the foot of the stairs Janice was at its head.

“You’ll not go without a good-by, Jack,” she pleaded.  “Obey dadda I ought—­but—­Oh, Jack—­I will—­if you will but come back—­Yes, I will kiss you.”

Brereton halted and clutched the banister, as if to prevent either departure or return, and could the girl have seen the look on his face she would have been in his arms before he had time to conquer himself.  But in doubt as to what the pause indicated, she stood waiting, and after a moment’s struggle Jack strode through the hallway and was gone.  So long as his footsteps could be heard Janice stood listening to them, but when they had died out of hearing she went into her own room, and the parents heard the bolt shot.

There was something in the girl’s eyes the next morning which prevented either father or mother from recurring to the scene, and time did not make it easier; for Janice, with a proudly sad face, did her tasks in an almost absolute silence, which told more clearly than words her misery.  Probably the matter would have eventually been reopened, but two days brought a new difficulty which gave both Mr. and Mrs. Meredith something else for thought.

Its first warning was from the hound, who roused his master, as he dozed in an easy-chair one sleepy afternoon, by a growl, and the squire’s own ears served to tell him that horsemen were entering the gate.  The women on the floor below also heard the sounds, and with a call to make sure that the refugee was seeking his hiding-place, the mother and daughter hurried to the front door to learn what the incursion might portend.

From the porch they could see a half-dozen riders in uniform, who had drawn rein just inside the gateway, while yet another, accompanied by two dogs, rode up to where they were standing.

“’T is General Lee,” exclaimed Mrs. Meredith, as he came within recognising distance.  “Probably he wishes a night’s lodging.”

It was far from what the officer wanted, as it proved; for when he had come within good speaking distance he called angrily, “Ho! ye are there, are ye, hussy?  Still busily seeking, I suppose, to be a pick-thanks with those in power by casting ridicule on those they are caballing to destroy.”

“I know not the cause for thy extraordinary words, General Lee,” replied Mrs. Meredith, with much dignity, “and can only conclude that a warm afternoon has tempted thee into a too free use of the bottle.”

“Bah!” ejaculated Lee.  “My bicker is not with ye, but with your girl, who, it seems, has a liking for mischief and slander.”

“I am ignorant to what thee refers, sir, and cannot believe—­” began the mother.

“Deny if you can that she limned the caricature of me which was handed about the theatre, and made me and my dogs the laugh of the town for a week?” interrupted Lee.  “Only three days since I had a letter from a friend in Philadelphia, telling me a journal of hers had been examined by the council, and that therein she confessed it as her work.”