"Excellently kind of you all, to care so tenderly for me—and yourselves! I, only a woman, living openly, with ill will for none, paying ray own way, violating no law of the land—"
"Your words are very bitter, Madam."
"The more bitter because they are true. You will release me then at Cairo, below?"
"I can not promise, Madam. You would be back in Washington by the first boats and trains."
"So, the plot runs yet further? Perhaps you do not stop this side the outer ways of the Mississippi? Say, St. Louis, New Orleans?"
"Perhaps even beyond those points," he rejoined grimly. "I make no promises, since you yourself make none."
"What are your plans, out there, beyond?"
"You ask it frankly, and with equal frankness I say I do not know. Indeed, I am not fully advised in all this matter. It was imperative to get you out of Washington, and if so, it is equally imperative to keep you out of Washington. At least for a time I am obliged to construe my carte blanche in that way, my dear lady. And as I say, my conscience is my strictest officer."
"Yes," she said, studying his face calmly with her steady dark eyes.
It was a face sensitive, although bony and lined; stern, though its owner still was young. She noticed the reddish hair and beard, the florid skin, the blue eye set deep—a fighting eye, yet that of a visionary.