"Go," she said to the young artist; "I pray you go and leave me with him. I will take him home."
Iver demurred.
"I entreat you to go," she urged. "Go to your mother. Tell her that my husband has met with an accident, and that I am called away to attend him. That is to serve as an excuse. I must, I verily must go with him. Do not say more. Do not say where this happened."
"Why not?"
She did not answer. He considered for a moment and then dimly saw that she was right.
"Iver," she said in a low tone, so that Jonas might not hear, "you should not have followed me; then this would never have happened."
"If I had not followed you he would have been your murderer,
Matabel."
Then, reluctantly, he went. But ever and anon turned to listen or to look.
When he was out of sight, then Mehetabel said to her husband, "Lean on me, and let me help you along."
"I can go by myself," he said bitterly. "I would not have his arm.
I will have none of yours. Give me my gun."