speak her mind to Mrs. Randolph and demand to be sent home? No! She had
not only shrunk from repeating the infamous slander she had overheard,
but she had a terrible fear that if she had done so, Mrs. Randolph was
capable of denying it, or even charging her of being still under the
influence of the earthquake shock and of walking in her sleep. No! She
could not trust her--she could trust no one there. Had not even the
major listened to those infamous lies? Had she not seen that he was
helpless in the hands of this cabal in his own household?--a cabal that
she herself had thoughtlessly joined against him.

They had reached the first slight ascent. Her companion drew out his
watch, looked at it with satisfaction, and changed the position of his
hands on the reins. Without being able to detect the difference, she
felt they were slackening speed. She turned inquiringly towards him; he
nodded his head, with a half smile and a gesture to her to look ahead.
The spires of San Jose were already faintly uplifting from the distant
fringe of oaks.

So soon! In fifteen minutes she would be there--and THEN! She remembered
suddenly she had not yet determined what to do. Should she go on at once
to San Francisco, or telegraph to her father and await him at San Jose?
In either case a new fear of the precipitancy of her action and the
inadequacy of her reasons had sprung up in her mind. Would her father
understand her? Would he underrate the cause and be mortified at the
insult she had given the family of his old friend, or, more dreadful
still, would he exaggerate her wrongs and seek a personal quarrel with
the major. He was a man of quick temper, and had the Western ideas of
redress. Perhaps even now she was precipitating a duel between them. Her
cheeks grew wan again, her breath came quickly, tears gathered in her
eyes. Oh, she was a dreadful girl, she knew it; she was an utterly