"Our report," said Mr. West, "hideous and horrible as it is, will
help to restore the child to calm and quiet. To speak frankly, Sir,
occurrences of this sort, sometimes with the worst results, are
sufficiently frequent in the South so that we constantly feel the
added weight or burden whenever the sister, wife, or daughter is
left without adequate protection."

The remaining hours of the morning were devoted to a drive over the
country surrounding Westover; and Mr. West consented to Adelaide's
request that she be allowed to drive Percy to the station at
Montplain, where he was to take the afternoon train for Richmond.
She chose the "buckboard" but insisted upon driving.

They talked of their school and college days, of the books they had
read, of anything in fact except of the experiences of the past
twenty-four hours. Even when they entered the valley no shadow
crossed Adelaide's face; but as they neared the station her voice
changed, and as Percy looked into her winsome, frankly upturned
face, she said:

"Have I truly been pardoned for my cruel words last evening? I am
sure you were as manly and noble as any man could have been."

"And I am sure you were the bravest little woman I have ever known,"
replied Percy, "and I admire you the more for calling me a coward
when you thought I was running away; so there is nothing to pardon I
am sure."

She gave him her hand as a child at parting, but he thought as he