"Art away to Westover, Evelyn?" he asked. "Then 't is 'Good-by,
sweetheart!' for I shall not go to Westover again. But you have a fair
road to travel,--there are violets by the wayside; for it is May Day, you
know, and the woods are white with dogwood and purple with the Judas-tree.
The violets are for you; but the great white blossoms, and the boughs of
rosy mist, and all the trees that wave in the wind are for Audrey." His
eyes passed the woman whom he would have wed, and rested upon her
companion in the coach. "Thou fair dryad!" he said. "Two days hence we
will keep tryst beneath the beech-tree in the woods beyond the glebe
house."

The man beside him put a hand upon his shoulder and plucked him back, nor
would look at Evelyn's drawn and whitened face, but called to the coachman
to go on. The black horses put themselves into motion, the equipage made a
wide turn, and the lights of the Palace were left behind.

Evelyn lodged in a house upon the outskirts of the town, but from the
Palace to Mistress Stagg's was hardly more than a stone's throw. Not until
the coach was drawing near the small white house did either of the women
speak. Then Audrey broke into an inarticulate murmur, and stooping would
have pressed her cheek against the hand that had clasped hers only a
little while before. But Evelyn snatched her hand away, and with a gesture
of passionate repulsion shrank into her corner of the coach. "Oh, how dare
you touch me!" she cried. "How dare you look at me, you serpent that have
stung me so!" Able to endure no longer, she suddenly gave way to angry
laughter. "Do you think I did it for you,--put such humiliation upon
myself for you? Why, you wanton, I care not if you stand in white at
every church door in Virginia! It was for him, for Mr. Marmaduke Haward of
Fair View, for whose name and fame, if he cares not for them himself, his
friends have yet some care!" The coach stopped, and the footman opened the