They were in the full glare of the door lamps,
and she saw that his face was very earnest, and as he began to speak he
flinched and shifted the cloak awkwardly.
"You have been hurt--why did you not tell me that?"
"It is nothing--the fellow had a knife, and he--but it's only a trifle in
the shoulder. I must be off!"
The lightning had several times leaped sharply out of the hills; the wind
was threshing the garden foliage, and now the rain roared on the tin roof
of the veranda.
As he spoke a carriage rolled into the grounds and came rapidly toward
the porte-cochere.
"I'm off--please believe in me--a little."
"You must not go if you are hurt--and you can't run away now--my father
and mother are at the door."
There was an instant's respite while the carriage drew up to the veranda
steps. She heard the stable-boy running out to help with the horses.
"You can't go now; come in and wait."
There was no time for debate. She flung open the door and swept him past
her with a gesture--through the library and beyond, into a smaller room
used by Judge Claiborne as an office.
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