"How, mademoiselle, did you come to do this thing? Do you love this Sir Charles? Did you think of the imprudence?"
Suddenly all thoughts but one fled from her. This one she voiced with quick eagerness: "I do not love Sir Charles! Indeed—indeed—believe me—I do not love him."
Instinctively Claude's arm tightened upon hers, but he said no more. He was too chivalrous a man to take any advantage of the time, the place, and their solitude. Deborah waited vainly for a word from him. When at last they stood at the doctor's gate, she whispered:
"I'll go in alone. I—can't thank you to-night. Good-bye."
One hand of hers he took, and the moonlight and the woodbine kissed each other as he touched it to his lips.
"Good-night," he said. And then, without more, he let her go, saw her pass up to the door, in her pale dress and light cloak, with hooded head bent low. He heard her knock, and presently saw the door opened by a sleepy servant. Then he turned away, back towards the tavern of Miriam Vawse.
Deborah felt no nervousness on entering the doctor's house. It had not occurred to her to dread lest the family had returned from the ball. In point of fact, the last reel was, at this moment, just beginning at the palace. The doctor's slave, therefore, received the young lady in dull surprise.
"I had a headache, Jeremiah," she explained, faintly. "I came home—with one of the Governor's house-blacks. Where's the candle?"
"Heah, Miss Travis. Yo' want su'th'n t' eat, p'haps?"
"Oh yes, yes, Jerry. Send Leah up with a cup of posset and some bread. That's all."