The weather had changed. After rain a keen north wind curled the waters of the great lake into wreaths of foam, breaking against the terrace, and the old Scotch clock in the lower hall struck midnight as Mr. Herriott's carriage drew up before the open door of his house. When he stepped to the ground a wild uproar of rejoicing dogs greeted him, and it was some seconds before he could rid himself of caressing paws. He assisted Eglah out, and turning toward the light met Amos Lea.

"Why, old man! It was kind of you to sit up for us. You should be asleep in your bed. Here is Mrs. Herriott. You saw her one summer."

The gardener held out his rough, hard hand, and she laid hers in it.

"Welcome home, madam. I hope you will be good to the lad; he will always do right by you."

Mr. Herriott laughed as he led her up the stone steps.

"Amos, you can not lecture her as you do me."

The housekeeper and one of the maids came forward for wraps and satchels.

"Mrs. Orr, Mrs. Herriott is very tired. Did you receive my telegram from Carville?"

"Yes, sir; the blue room is in order; bath, fire, supper, everything all ready."

Drawing Eglah's arm through his, he ascended the wide oak staircase, saying:

"I had it papered and arranged especially for you that summer you came for a few days, and since then no one has been allowed to occupy it."

At the landing he called over the railing:

"Mrs. Orr, as it will be late when the trunks come, do not send up Mrs. Herriott's until morning. She needs rest, and I do not wish her disturbed before she rings her bell."

On a table drawn near the fire in the "blue room" a decanter and glasses glittered in the glow from an open hearth. Mr. Herriott poured out some Tokay.

"I am sorry I could not make your home-coming less dismal; but for you the worst is over, and, if you please, we will not refer to it again. To-morrow I shall be engaged with two committees, one relating to a scientific scholarship I wish to establish, and my time is so limited I can be with you very little. The necessity for going via New York, where I must stop, shortens my stay here; and I am compelled to allow some margin for delay en route from Boston to Sydney, where the vessel is due on the fifteenth. This is not exactly a 'loving-cup,' but you must join me."

He touched her glass with his, and a deep undercurrent of suppressed emotion surged through the quietly spoken words.

"Complete oblivion of all that has distressed you during the last forty-eight hours. Put me entirely out of your thoughts, and remember that now you can be happy with your father."

He emptied his glass and replaced it on the salver.

"No. I would not forget it if I could. I pray God that you may escape every danger; that you will come back in safety to your home; and while I may never see you again, I hope to hear you are far happier than I could ever have made you."

She sipped the wine, put it aside, and continued:

"You can not understand the utter ruin of hopes, ambitions, beliefs, that heretofore made my life worth living. In the awful wreck one thing survives—my faith in you, who walk always in the light of 'the high white star of Truth.' I honor and I trust you now as I never did before the ordeal of the last few hours. The fault was mine, not yours; and as I deserve, I wish I could bear all the pain, all the consequences, of my desperate rashness. You do not understand what I suffer."

She stood with her hands folded on her breast, so close to him that he noted how wan and drawn the young face had grown, how measureless the misery in eyes peering hopelessly into futurity.

"At least I fully and sorrowfully understand one thing—you know no more about love than that baby you nursed on the train."

In avoidance of his cold scrutiny, her strained gaze had wandered to the frieze of silver lilies on the wall, but now she looked at him.

"Mr. Herriott, you may be sure that when you go away and leave me forever, I shall never learn."

There was a sudden glint in his eyes, like a blue blade flash, but after a moment he listened to the clock, and turned away.

"Good-night. Get all the sleep you can. You will need it for your journey South to-morrow."

He closed the door, and she heard his quick step ring down the long stairway; then the joyful bark of the dogs told he had left the house.

She was an unusually healthy woman, and, impatient of the teasing pain in her temples, shook out her heavy coil of hair. She walked from door to fireplace, from bed to bathroom, up and down, around and around, too restless to lie down, dominated by a strange feeling she made no attempt to analyze. As the clock struck four, she still walked to and fro, never suspecting that Mr. Herriott stood in the hall, close to her door, listening to the slow sound of her feet on the polished oak floor, fighting down his longing to enter and take her in his arms.

The "blue room" looked out on the sickle-shaped beach and upon the lake, and when the sun rose above cliffs at the rear of the house, the racing waves leaped, crooned, flashed in golden light.

Looping back the lace draperies at the window, Eglah stood watching the flight of a loon, the quivering, silver flicker of ducks' wings against the pale pink sky-line, the gliding of a sloop with sails bending like a huge white butterfly balancing over some vast blue flower.

Walking slowly up the beach, Mr. Herriott was approaching the stile, and with him the collie Pilot, the Polish wolfhound Tzar, one on each side, and the wiry black-and-white Skye terrier Snap wriggling in front. At the stile Amos Lea sat waiting, and master and gardener talked for some minutes.

After a little the latter rose, put one hand on Mr. Herriott's shoulder, raised the other, and turned his rugged face toward heaven.

Eglah knew he was praying for the man now hurrying away to multitudinous dangers, and her eyes grew strangely humid. When the mist cleared, she saw they were shaking hands, and Amos disappeared behind the garden wall. As the master neared the terrace steps he glanced up at her window, took off his cap, and saluted her. He had never looked so commanding, so nobly built, so superior to all other men. Something stirred, quivered, woke up in her heart, and a swift spasm of pain seized her.

A half hour later Mr. Herriott knocked at her door. She opened it, and one quick glance at the ivory bed and its lace hangings told him she had not lain down.

"Good morning. Will you come down and give me my coffee, or shall I send breakfast to you here?"

"I prefer to come down."

He held up a bouquet of heliotrope, daintily arranged.

"Amos Lea's 'compliments to the madam,' and he hopes she will wear these flowers, as he always cut heliotrope for her when she visited here."

Afraid to trust her voice, she took the bouquet, inhaled its fragrance, and slipped the stems into the girdle of her silk morning gown.

At the head of the stairs he put his palm under her elbow to steady her steps, but at the door of the dining-room, where butler and housekeeper waited, he took her fingers in his, led her to the head of the table, and seated her. During breakfast he talked of the garden, of his horses, of some pheasants he knew she would admire, of a tazza on the library mantel she must be sure to examine, and she wondered at the complete control and composure he had attained. Was it merely the noblesse oblige of a courteous host?

After a second cup of coffee, he looked at the clock.

"Hawkins, tell Rivers to bring the dog-cart around. Eglah, come and see Amos Lea's gloxinias."

He put on his hat and light overcoat, and walked beside her to the hothouse.

"I shall be busy in town nearly all day, there are so many last things to be attended to. I had abandoned all idea of joining this expedition, when I received a letter telling me an important member of the party had lost his father, and family interests compelled him to stay at home. The request was urgent that I should cable my acceptance of the invitation, which I did; hence I have had little time for necessary preparation, and some things I am obliged to do this morning. Here comes the cart. We must be at the station by five o'clock this afternoon. Your train southbound starts just ten minutes before mine leaves for New York. Trunks will be sent in at three o'clock. While I am away in town I should be glad to have you look all over the house. Some of the rooms you have never seen—my laboratory and den. In my bedroom hangs a portrait of my lovely mother, that I particularly desire you to see. Good-bye."

He raised his hat, sprang into the cart, and was soon out of sight.

Five moments later the keen, solemn eyes of Amos peered at her from behind a cluster of tall palms.

"Why didn't you marry him sooner, and keep him at home?"

"I did not know he was going until the day we were married. I hoped and believed I could induce him to stay, but he had given his word."

"And that word of his he never breaks. Head, heart, purse, maybe will give way, but not the pledged word of old Fergus Herriott's boy. This self-murder that goes on in the name of 'science' is a sin in the nostrils of the Lord, and if only the blear-eyed, spectacled old fools that set up to know more about creation than Moses did, after he went to school to God for forty days, could swamp themselves under the ice, it would be silly enough, and no matter, but for my lad! Susan and I nursed, rocked him, prayed over his cradle since he was barely one year old, and now for him to be cast out like Jonah for fish bait. If God had wanted the North Pole handled and strung with flags it would never have been shut up in nights six months long, behind ice high as Ararat and wide as the flood. There will be lonesome days till the lad gets home—and if he never comes back! Where will his dear bones be in the resurrection?"

His bearded chin trembled, and his heavy, shaggy white eyebrows met over his nose.

"Mr. Lea, we must not cease to pray. God needs such noble men as Mr. Herriott, and He can protect him from every danger."

"Madam, don't 'mister' me. I am just Amos Lea—Noel's Amos. Study your Bible and you will find out the Lord needs no man; the best of us are but worthless cumberers of the ground."

He drew his sleeve across his eyes and left her.

Up and down the hothouses, through the shrubbery, over the stile, along the curving beach and back to the terrace she wandered, striving in vain to divert her thoughts from one fact that overshadowed everything else—the master was going away that afternoon, and she might never see him again. From public disgrace her father was safe, the crisis of acute terror on his account had passed; but now, as the smoke of the battle drifted away, she became dimly conscious that she carried a wound she had not suspected and could not explain. The ache in her heart was unlike any former pain; there was nothing with which to compare it, and she dared not analyze it at present. Through the house she walked aimlessly until she reached the suite of rooms set apart for the master. In the laboratory she did not linger, but the adjoining apartment she knew must be the "den," from the strong, pervading odor of cigar smoke. The wainscoting of carved walnut, five feet high, was surmounted by a shelf holding a miscellaneous collection of whips, pipes, geological specimens, flints from Indian mounds, a hematite hatchet, a copper maul, a jade adze. In one corner of the room stood a totem pole with a brooding owl; in another a "kahili" of white feathers, with richly inlaid handle; and upon the wall above the shelf, suspended by heavy silk cords, a gold-colored "ahulla." Two trunks strapped and ready for removal had been drawn to the middle of the apartment. On one lay a heavy overcoat fur lined, and a fine field glass in a leather shield; on the other a gun case and box of instruments.

She sat down in a deep morocco cushioned chair, from the brass knob of which hung a somewhat faded silk smoking jacket lined with quilted orange satin, and looked up at the steel engravings, the etchings, the water colors on the wall; at some marble and bronze busts on the mantel shelf, and on the top of a teak cabinet filled with curios from Crete, Uxmal, LabnÁ, and the Mancos CaÑon.

Over the writing desk and a neighboring table were strewn scientific journals, and on a sheet of paper that had fluttered to the floor on its way to the over-laden waste basket, bold headlines had been written by Mr. Herriott:

"First—Were the cliff-dwellers of Asiatic origin?

"Second—Are the Eskimos survivors of pre-glacial man who dwelt within the Arctic circle when its fauna and flora, under similar climatic conditions, corresponded with those now existing in Virginia and Maryland?

"Third—Are kames and drumlins infallible index fingers?"

Whether the page contained notes from some book that he wished to controvert, or his own views jotted down for future elaboration, she could not determine; but as she stooped to pick up and preserve it, a growl startled her, and around the corner of the desk she saw the red eyes of Tzar. She spoke to him, but he rose, showed his fangs, and stalked out of the room, the bristles stiff on his dun-colored back. How long she sat, plunged in painful, perplexed revery, she never knew; but finally she went to the open door of the bedroom, and leaned against the facing, unwilling to enter. Over the low, carved chimney-piece hung the portrait of Mrs. Herriott, a very beautiful young woman in black velvet and pearls, and the perfect features, the poise of head, the silky black hair, and especially the fine moulding of brow she gave to her son, though unlike his her soft, tender eyes matched her hair in color.

Below the portrait a silver frame held a photograph of Eglah in evening dress, taken in Washington; beside it another, wearing her college cap and gown. On the dressing table a glittering circle arrested her attention. Swiftly she entered, crossed the room, and leaned over it. An exquisitely painted miniature of herself, set with diamonds, and resting on a carved ivory easel, looked up at her. Two discarded photographs of Mr. Herriott lay with some torn letters under a neighboring chair. She snatched one and hurried away, fearing to trust herself; but passing the smoking jacket she caught it up, folded it under her arm, and escaped to her room.

Exchanging her trailing morning gown of cream silk for the travelling suit, she packed her trunk, hiding jacket and photograph beneath the tray, locked it, and sat down to wait. In the wreck of her overturned altar and shattered filial ideals, beyond and above the desolation of her cruel disenchantment, rose one image inflexible, incorruptible, absolutely invulnerable to temptation, that involved sacrifice of duty. As the mist cleared, strange new valuations loomed, and she thought of lines that limned his portrait:

For years he had been entirely hers. Now she lost him hopelessly. His contempt could spare no room for pity; her presence infuriated him.

He had lifted her to a sacred niche where love and reverence jealously guarded her, and she had hurled herself down into the mire of the market place.

"For sale! Any man could have bought you, body and soul."

The words branded her. They seemed burned in by the scorn flaming in his eyes, and she thought of the red letter on Hester Prynne's breast. The world should never know, but she would carry that scar to her grave.

Soon the clock struck three, and simultaneously the outcry of the dogs announced their master's return. Hat and gloves in hand, Eglah went down to the drawing-room, and caught a glimpse of Mr. Herriott hurrying toward the gardener's cottage. Later he went to his own rooms, and when dinner was announced apologized for unavoidable delay.

He had reined himself in with a grip so tight that the only evidence of suppressed excitement was the feverish, steady gleam in his eyes. He talked of Mrs. St. Clair, of Father Temple, of Trix Stapleton, whom he should see for a moment in New York.

During a brief lull in the conversation, Eglah said:

"I found your mother's portrait, which you asked me to look at. In an extraordinary degree you resemble her."

"Thank you. That is a compliment I value. It is indeed a pity she could not have endowed me with the patience and amiability that so endeared her to all who knew her."

Very soon the moment came for parting words, and she went down to the carriage step, leaving him with the servants clustered in the hall, but Amos Lea was not visible. Mr. Herriott handed Eglah to the back seat, and for a moment stooped to speak to and pat the head of each dog. As he entered the carriage and seated himself opposite his companion, slamming the door as signal to the coachman, the housemaid threw up her hands and ran down the steps.

"Please, sir, Mr. Herriott, may I speak to you?"

He put out his head.

"What is the matter?"

"The silk jacket, sir. You told me to carry it to Mr. Lea, but, sir, I can't find it. You must have put it in your trunk."

"No, I wore it this morning after the trunks were locked and strapped."

"Indeed, sir, I have searched your rooms most faithful, and that jacket is not there."

"You will find it somewhere in the den. Good-bye, Della. Drive on, Rivers."

The house fronted the lake, and the carriage road at the rear wound through thick shrubbery, groups of deodars, and a lane of lilacs in full bloom. The iron gates were open, and against one marble pillar Amos Lea leaned. As the horses dashed through, he motioned to the driver. At sight of him Mr. Herriott's face changed, softened; he sprang out and walked back a few yards.

Through a glass in the curtain Eglah saw the old man's brawny hands laid on Mr. Herriott's shoulders, and the harsh voice shook.

"Oh, lad! May the Lord bless you and keep you in the hollow of His hand, and bring your body safely back, and save your dear soul from the snares of the ungodly that go down to the icy sea in ships. Wherever you wander Susan's eyes will follow you until you reach that rest where there is no more night."

"It hurts me sorely to say good-bye to you, Amos. For my sake take extra care of yourself. Let up on moles and slugs and shotbugs in damp weather. Look after my dogs for me, and be good to Aunt Trina when she comes for her visit. One thing more, be sure the tower lamp is lighted every night. When I am groping and stumbling in Arctic darkness, it will cheer me to know that light is shining over a black, stormy lake. Now I must go. I hope God will keep you strong and well. Good-bye."

Then the voice sank so low a few additional words were inaudible to those beyond the gate. He took the gardener's hands, shook them warmly, and re-entered the carriage. As he did so Eglah pointed to the seat beside her, which he accepted, and she saw his eyes were misty.

For some moments neither spoke.

"Aunt Trina is fond of the old place, and I have asked her to spend July here, with any friends she may wish to bring. She and Amos spar like prize fighters over immersion and close communion, and he brands her extreme ritualism 'idolatry rank as the groves of Baal.'"

He looked at his watch, and called to the coachman:

"Rivers, we have very little time to spare."

His closed right hand rested on his knee, and Eglah laid hers upon it.

"Since I was a little girl you have been my faithful, sympathizing, patient friend, and now I can not bear that you should leave me without uttering one kind word of forgiveness for the great wrong I realize at last that I have done you."

"Eglah, for God's sake don't open that door, which shuts out—what I can not discuss again with you, because I must not wound you."

She noticed the suppressed pant in his voice, and as he did not respond to the touch of her hand, her slender fingers crept between and twined around his.

"Mr. Herriott, when you come home——"

"I shall try not to come home."

"If I promise you shall never see me there, perhaps that assurance may tempt you back. You are casting me out of your life, and I have no right to complain, but I wish to say that I hope you will have no fear for the name you gave irrevocably into my keeping."

"You bear my name, my father's name, but I am very sure your little white hands will hold it clean, pure, and sacred. Should you invoke legal aid to free you from merely nominal matrimonial bonds, I prefer you should then resume your father's name. If you choose to make no change, and I do not return, the name will die with you, and I believe you will guard it as you would the Grail."

Unconsciously his hand tightened on hers, until the edge of the ring cut into her finger.

"Mr. Herriott, you will write to me?"

He shook his head.

Looking intently at her, he noticed the deep blue shadows under her eyes, and the first tears he had ever seen her shed rolled slowly over her worn face.

"Unless my letters were hollow shams, they would only distress you, and all future annoyance I wish to avoid. Silence is the only possible peace."

At this moment the carriage stopped, and he looked out.

"Why do you lag, Rivers?"

"A train, sir. Switch engine and gravel cars."

"Drive around it."

"I can't, sir. Red signal just ahead of the horse's nose."

Mr. Herriott stepped out, and walked for some minutes up and down the embankment. Then the train pulled out, and when he re-entered his carriage he took the front seat.

"I sent a telegram to your father, which ought to reach him in Washington, telling him the number of your train, and your hotel in Philadelphia; and I hope your return journey will prove more agreeable than your trip with me. If any necessity should arise that would require you to communicate with me, you will find this card in the outside pocket of your satchel, but the address means only that letters will be forwarded to Upernavik. When we leave there no mail will reach us."

The carriage drew up to the platform, and Mr. Herriott assisted Eglah into the train. With her wraps and satchel he preceded her to the drawing-room.

"This is more comfortable than the one you occupied two days ago, and I trust you can rest well. Here are your tickets and check. This train is almost ready to start, and mine moves in ten minutes. In parting I make only one request. I ask you now to put me out of your life. I want you to forget me, and be happy with your father. Good-bye."

His face was white, and the expression of his eyes she never forgot.

He had extended his hand, but the horrible possibilities of the future swept all proud scruples aside, and she put her arms around his neck, clinging desperately to him.

"Mr. Noel, you shall never, never, be out of my life! I will always belong to my—own—Mr. Noel."

The check rein snapped.

He clasped—strained her against his breast, and she felt the furious beating of his heart. It was barely a moment. Gently he unwound her arms, put her quickly aside, and left her.