Leland laughed softly. "Well, perhaps that was the reason, though I would sooner believe it was because I recognised what I owed the State."
"But it is all different—you are not in the least angry with me now?"
The moonlight was very dim, and showed no more than the pale white oval of her face; but Leland felt the appeal in her voice, and knew that it was also in her eyes.
"My dear," he said quietly, "how could I be?"
Carrie lifted her hand and laid it on his shoulder. "Charley, I can't stop you now, but I want you to promise you will not go back again. Do you know that I sit still, shivering, when darkness comes while you are away, trying not to think of what you may be doing? I daren't think. Can't you understand, Charley, that I have only you?"
Feeling how hard it was to leave her, and fearing that further tenderness from her might weaken his firm purpose, he sought refuge in a frivolous retort.
"There are still a few of your relatives at Barrock-holme," he said.
"They never write me. Perhaps I couldn't expect them to. I thought you knew that I had offended them."
"Offended them?"
Carrie laughed a trifle harshly. "Oh," she said, "it is a wife's duty to take her husband's part; but, after all, that is not the question. I hadn't meant to mention it. It doesn't matter in the least."