chivalrous sympathies of the man by professing his disinclination
to leave their devoted colleague, Mrs. Brant, at the mercy of her
antagonistic and cold-blooded husband at such a crisis, and it is to be
feared also that Clarence, as a reputed lukewarm partisan, excited no
personal sympathy, even from his own party. Howbeit, the deputy agreed
to delay Pinckney's journey for a parting interview with his fair
hostess.

How far this expressed the real sentiments of Captain Pinckney was never
known. Whether his political association with Mrs. Brant had developed
into a warmer solicitude, understood or ignored by her,--what were his
hopes and aspirations regarding her future,--were by the course of fate
never disclosed. A man of easy ethics, but rigid artificialities of
honor, flattered and pampered by class prejudice, a so-called "man of
the world," with no experience beyond his own limited circle, yet brave
and devoted to that, it were well perhaps to leave this last act of his
inefficient life as it was accepted by the deputy.

Dismounting he approached the house from the garden. He was already
familiar with the low arched doorway which led to the business room, and
from which he could gain admittance to the patio, but it so chanced that
he entered the dark passage at the moment that Clarence had thrust Susy
into the business room, and heard its door shut sharply. For an instant
he believed that Mrs. Brant had taken refuge there, but as he cautiously
moved forward he heard her voice in the patio beyond. Its accents
struck him as pleading; an intense curiosity drew him further along the
passage. Suddenly her voice seemed to change to angry denunciation,
and the word "Liar" rang upon his ears. It was followed by his own name
uttered sardonically by Clarence, the swift rustle of a skirt, the clash
of the gate, and then--forgetting everything, he burst into the patio.