She would secure that box of papers, no matter at what cost. Her father should be saved from disgrace, and he should never suspect she knew his guilt. She must see Mr. Herriott before she saw her father. Swiftly she matured her resolution; then an unusual glitter came into her lovely soft eyes, and she sat down between the chestnut trees and waited.
At a quick stride, Mr. Herriott descended the avenue until nearly opposite the seat, and she rose and walked toward him.
Their hands met in a tight, clinging clasp, but for an instant neither spoke. He noted that the blood had ebbed from her lips, and that she was frightfully pale, but the eyes lifted to his glowed unnaturally.
"I intended coming back later, to spend an hour with you and say good-bye, as——"
"Never to say good-bye again! You shall not leave me."
She drew him down to the seat beside her, and he smiled at the imperious tone, so suggestive of her childish days.
"You do not understand conditions, unless—When did you see your father?"
"Not since last night. He went fishing at daylight."
"Then you do not know that I came to bid you farewell before sailing for the Arctic circle?"
"Yes. I have not seen father to-day, but this letter from Mrs. St. Clair arrived by the morning mail. Mr. Herriott, I am the most miserable woman God ever made, and I want to turn to you now, but I scarcely know just how to do so. Once—that night in Washington—you said you would never change, that you would always love me; but I have no right to expect after years of absence—" She paused and the frozen face crimsoned.