"No. Nor am I quite alone in my conviction. And one day the world that suspects nothing shall know."
There was a silence; then, "But Jacqueline," she whispered, with whitening lips. "Jacqueline"—
"She chose," he answered. "I cannot help it. She took her road and her companion."
"And you mean—you mean—"
"I mean to bring him to justice."
"To break her heart and ruin her life—to bring down wretchedness, misery, disgrace! Oh!" She caught her breath. "And Deb—and Uncle Dick and Uncle Edward—Fair, Fair, leave him alone!"
"You must not ask me that."
"But Ludwell would—Ludwell would have asked it! Oh, do you think he would have endured to bring woe like that upon her! Oh, Fair, Fair,—"
Cary sprang to his feet, walked away, and stood with his back to the great stone and his face toward Greenwood. He saw but one thing there, the graveyard on the hill beneath the leafless trees. When he came back to Unity, he looked as he had looked beside the dead, that day on Indian Run.
"We are alike, Ludwell and I," he said, "but we are not that much alike. I am little now but an avenger of blood. I shall be that until this draws to an end." He came closer and touched her shoulder with his hand. "Take me or leave me as I am, Unity. I shall not change, not even for you."