The white splotches which had mottled Martin
Pike's face disappeared as if they had been suddenly
splashed with hot red. "You go back to
my house," he said. "What I sent you only
shows the extent of my--"

"Effrontery!" The word rang through the
whole house, so loudly and clearly did she strike
it, rang in his ears till it stung like a castigation.
It was ominous, portentous of justice and of
disaster. There was more than doubt of him in it:
there was conviction.

He fell back from this word; and when he again
advanced, Ariel had left the house. She had
turned the next corner before he came out of the
gate; and as he passed his own home on his way
down-town, he saw her white dress mingling with
his daughter's near the horse-block beside the fire,
where the two, with their arms about each other,
stood waiting for Sam Warden and the open
summer carriage.

Judge Pike walked on, the white splotches
reappearing like a pale rash upon his face. A yellow
butterfly zigzagged before him, knee-high, across
the sidewalk. He raised his foot and half kicked
at it.