She listened a moment for his step; then, apparently
satisfied, turned back toward St. Agatha's. I followed,
uncertain, hesitating, marking her definite onward
flight. From the folds of the cloak stole the faint perfume
of violets. The sight of her, the sound of her
voice, combined to create-and to destroy!-a mood
with every step.
I was seeking some colorless thing to say when she
spoke over her shoulder: "You are very kind, but I am not in the least afraid,
Mr. Glenarm."
"But there is something I wish to say to you. I
should like-"
She slackened her step.
"Yes."
"I am going away."
"Yes; of course; you are going away."
Her tone implied that this was something that had
been ordained from the beginning of time, and did not
matter.
"And I wish to say a word about Mr. Pickering."
She paused and faced me abruptly. We were at the
edge of the wood, and the school lay quite near. She
caught the cloak closer about her and gave her head a
little toss I remembered well, as a trick compelled by the
vagaries of woman's head-dress.
"I can't talk to you here, Mr. Glenarm; I had no intention
of ever seeing you again; but I must say this-"
"Those notes of Pickering's-I shall ask Mr. Glenarm
to give them to you-as a mark of esteem from me."
She stepped backward as though I had struck her.
"You risked much for them-for him"-I went on.
"Mr. Glenarm, I have no intention of discussing that,
or any other matter with you-"
"It is better so-"
"But your accusations, the things you imply, are unjust,
infamous!"
The quaver in her voice shook my resolution to deal
harshly with her.
"If I had not myself been a witness-" I began.
"Yes; you have the conceit of your own wisdom, I
dare say."
"But that challenge to follow you, to break my pledge;
my running away, only to find that Pickering was close
at my heels; your visit to the tunnel in search of those
notes,-don't you know that those things were a blow
that hurt? You had been the spirit of this woodland to
me. Through all these months, from the hour I watched
you paddle off into the sunset in your canoe, the thought
of you made the days brighter, steadied and cheered me,
and wakened ambitions that I had forgotten-abandoned
-long ago. And this hideous struggle here,-it seems
so idle, so worse than useless now! But I'm glad I followed
you,-I'm glad that neither fortune nor duty kept
me back. And now I want you to know that Arthur
Pickering shall not suffer for anything that has happened.
I shall make no effort to punish him; for your
sake he shall go free."