When Mr. McClosky, a week later, stepped again upon his own veranda, he
saw through the French window the figure of a man in his parlor. Under
his hospitable roof, the sight was not unusual; but, for an instant, a
subtle sense of disappointment thrilled him. When he saw it was not the
face of Ashe turned toward him, he was relieved; but when he saw the
tawny beard, and quick, passionate eyes of Henry Rance, he felt a new
sense of apprehension, so that he fell to rubbing his beard almost upon
his very threshold.

Jenny ran into the hall, and seized her father with a little cry of joy.
"Father," said Jenny in a hurried whisper, "don't mind HIM," indicating
Rance with a toss of her yellow braids: "he's going soon. And I think,
father, I've done him wrong. But it's all over with John and me now.
Read that note, and see how he's insulted me." Her lip quivered; but she
went on, "It's Ridgeway that he means, father; and I believe it was HIS
hand struck Ridgeway down, or that he knows who did. But hush now! not a
word."

She gave him a feverish kiss, and glided back into the parlor, leaving
Mr. McClosky, perplexed and irresolute, with the note in his hand. He
glanced at it hurriedly, and saw that it was couched in almost the very
words he had suggested. But a sudden, apprehensive recollection came
over him. He listened; and, with an exclamation of dismay, he seized his
hat, and ran out of the house, but too late. At the same moment a quick,
nervous footstep was heard upon the veranda; the French window flew
open, and, with a light laugh of greeting, Ridgeway stepped into the
room.