XI + 

At two oтАЩclock in the morning the freckled boy from Creston stopped his sleepy horse at the door of the red house, and Charity got out. Harney had taken leave of her at Creston River, charging the boy to drive her home. Her mind was still in a fog of misery, and she did not remember very clearly what had happened, or what they said to each other, during the interminable interval since their departure from Nettleton; but the secretive instinct of the animal in pain was so strong in her that she had a sense of relief when Harney got out and she drove on alone. + 

The full moon hung over North Dormer, whitening the mist that filled the hollows between the hills and floated transparently above the fields. Charity stood a moment at the gate, looking out into the waning night. She watched the boy drive off, his horseтАЩs head wagging heavily to and fro; then she went around to the kitchen door and felt under the mat for the key. She found it, unlocked the door and went in. The kitchen was dark, but she discovered a box of matches, lit a candle and went upstairs. Mr.┬аRoyallтАЩs door, opposite hers, stood open on his unlit room; evidently he had not come back. She went into her room, bolted her door and began slowly to untie the ribbon about her waist, and to take off her dress. Under the bed she saw the paper bag in which she had hidden her new hat from inquisitive eyes.тБатАКтБатАж + 

She lay for a long time sleepless on her bed, staring up at the moonlight on the low ceiling; dawn was in the sky when she fell asleep, and when she woke the sun was on her face. + 

She dressed and went down to the kitchen. Verena was there alone: she glanced at Charity tranquilly, with her old deaf-looking eyes. There was no sign of Mr.┬аRoyall about the house and the hours passed without his reappearing. Charity had gone up to her room, and sat there listlessly, her hands on her lap. Puffs of sultry air fanned her dimity window curtains and flies buzzed stiflingly against the bluish panes. + 

At one oтАЩclock Verena hobbled up to see if she were not coming down to dinner; but she shook her head, and the old woman went away, saying: тАЬIтАЩll cover up, then.тАЭ + 

The sun turned and left her room, and Charity seated herself in the window, gazing down the village street through the half-opened shutters. Not a thought was in her mind; it was just a dark whirlpool of crowding images; and she watched the people passing along the street, Dan TargattтАЩs team hauling a load of pine-trunks down to Hepburn, the sextonтАЩs old white horse grazing on the bank across the way, as if she looked at these familiar sights from the other side of the grave. + 

She was roused from her apathy by seeing Ally Hawes come out of the FrysтАЩ gate and walk slowly toward the red house with her uneven limping step. At the sight Charity recovered her severed contact with reality. She divined that Ally was coming to hear about her day: no one else was in the secret of the trip to Nettleton, and it had flattered Ally profoundly to be allowed to know of it. + 

At the thought of having to see her, of having to meet her eyes and answer or evade her questions, the whole horror of the previous nightтАЩs adventure rushed back upon Charity. What had been a feverish nightmare became a cold and unescapable fact. Poor Ally, at that moment, represented North Dormer, with all its mean curiosities, its furtive malice, its sham unconsciousness of evil. Charity knew that, although all relations with Julia were supposed to be severed, the tenderhearted Ally still secretly communicated with her; and no doubt Julia would exult in the chance of retailing the scandal of the wharf. The story, exaggerated and distorted, was probably already on its way to North Dormer. + 

AllyтАЩs dragging pace had not carried her far from the FrysтАЩ gate when she was stopped by old Mrs.┬аSollas, who was a great talker, and spoke very slowly because she had never been able to get used to her new teeth from Hepburn. Still, even this respite would not last long; in another ten minutes Ally would be at the door, and Charity would hear her greeting Verena in the kitchen, and then calling up from the foot of the stairs. + 

Suddenly it became clear that flight, and instant flight, was the only thing conceivable. The longing to escape, to get away from familiar faces, from places where she was known, had always been strong in her in moments of distress. She had a childish belief in the miraculous power of strange scenes and new faces to transform her life and wipe out bitter memories. But such impulses were mere fleeting whims compared to the cold resolve which now possessed her. She felt she could not remain an hour longer under the roof of the man who had publicly dishonoured her, and face to face with the people who would presently be gloating over all the details of her humiliation. + 

Her passing pity for Mr.┬аRoyall had been swallowed up in loathing: everything in her recoiled from the disgraceful spectacle of the drunken old man apostrophizing her in the presence of a band of loafers and streetwalkers. Suddenly, vividly, she relived again the horrible moment when he had tried to force himself into her room, and what she had before supposed to be a mad aberration now appeared to her as a vulgar incident in a debauched and degraded life. + 

While these thoughts were hurrying through her she had dragged out her old canvas schoolbag, and was thrusting into it a few articles of clothing and the little packet of letters she had received from Harney. From under her pincushion she took the library key, and laid it in full view; then she felt at the back of a drawer for the blue brooch that Harney had given her. She would not have dared to wear it openly at North Dormer, but now she fastened it on her bosom as if it were a talisman to protect her in her flight. These preparations had taken but a few minutes, and when they were finished Ally Hawes was still at the FrysтАЩ corner talking to old Mrs.┬аSollas.тБатАКтБатАж + 

She had said to herself, as she always said in moments of revolt: тАЬIтАЩll go to the MountainтБатАФIтАЩll go back to my own folks.тАЭ She had never really meant it before; but now, as she considered her case, no other course seemed open. She had never learned any trade that would have given her independence in a strange place, and she knew no one in the big towns of the valley, where she might have hoped to find employment. Miss Hatchard was still away; but even had she been at North Dormer she was the last person to whom Charity would have turned, since one of the motives urging her to flight was the wish not to see Lucius Harney. Travelling back from Nettleton, in the crowded brightly-lit train, all exchange of confidence between them had been impossible; but during their drive from Hepburn to Creston River she had gathered from HarneyтАЩs snatches of consolatory talkтБатАФagain hampered by the freckled boyтАЩs presenceтБатАФthat he intended to see her the next day. At the moment she had found a vague comfort in the assurance; but in the desolate lucidity of the hours that followed she had come to see the impossibility of meeting him again. Her dream of comradeship was over; and the scene on the wharfтБатАФvile and disgraceful as it had beenтБатАФhad after all shed the light of truth on her minute of madness. It was as if her guardianтАЩs words had stripped her bare in the face of the grinning crowd and proclaimed to the world the secret admonitions of her conscience. + 

She did not think these things out clearly; she simply followed the blind propulsion of her wretchedness. She did not want, ever again, to see anyone she had known; above all, she did not want to see Harney.тБатАКтБатАж + 

She climbed the hill-path behind the house and struck through the woods by a shortcut leading to the Creston road. A lead-coloured sky hung heavily over the fields, and in the forest the motionless air was stifling; but she pushed on, impatient to reach the road which was the shortest way to the Mountain. + 

To do so, she had to follow the Creston road for a mile or two, and go within half a mile of the village; and she walked quickly, fearing to meet Harney. But there was no sign of him, and she had almost reached the branch road when she saw the flanks of a large white tent projecting through the trees by the roadside. She supposed that it sheltered a travelling circus which had come there for the Fourth; but as she drew nearer she saw, over the folded-back flap, a large sign bearing the inscription, тАЬGospel Tent.тАЭ The interior seemed to be empty; but a young man in a black alpaca coat, his lank hair parted over a round white face, stepped from under the flap and advanced toward her with a smile. + 

тАЬSister, your Saviour knows everything. WonтАЩt you come in and lay your guilt before Him?тАЭ he asked insinuatingly, putting his hand on her arm. + 

Charity started back and flushed. For a moment she thought the evangelist must have heard a report of the scene at Nettleton; then she saw the absurdity of the supposition. + 

тАЬI onтАЩy wishтАЩt I had any to lay!тАЭ she retorted, with one of her fierce flashes of self-derision; and the young man murmured, aghast: тАЬOh, Sister, donтАЩt speak blasphemy.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

But she had jerked her arm out of his hold, and was running up the branch road, trembling with the fear of meeting a familiar face. Presently she was out of sight of the village, and climbing into the heart of the forest. She could not hope to do the fifteen miles to the Mountain that afternoon; but she knew of a place halfway to Hamblin where she could sleep, and where no one would think of looking for her. It was a little deserted house on a slope in one of the lonely rifts of the hills. She had seen it once, years before, when she had gone on a nutting expedition to the grove of walnuts below it. The party had taken refuge in the house from a sudden mountain storm, and she remembered that Ben Sollas, who liked frightening girls, had told them that it was said to be haunted. + 

She was growing faint and tired, for she had eaten nothing since morning, and was not used to walking so far. Her head felt light and she sat down for a moment by the roadside. As she sat there she heard the click of a bicycle-bell, and started up to plunge back into the forest; but before she could move the bicycle had swept around the curve of the road, and Harney, jumping off, was approaching her with outstretched arms. + 

тАЬCharity! What on earth are you doing here?тАЭ + 

She stared as if he were a vision, so startled by the unexpectedness of his being there that no words came to her. + 

тАЬWhere were you going? Had you forgotten that I was coming?тАЭ he continued, trying to draw her to him; but she shrank from his embrace. + 

тАЬI was going awayтБатАФI donтАЩt want to see youтБатАФI want you should leave me alone,тАЭ she broke out wildly. + 

He looked at her and his face grew grave, as though the shadow of a premonition brushed it. + 

тАЬGoing awayтБатАФfrom me, Charity?тАЭ + 

тАЬFrom everybody. I want you should leave me.тАЭ + 

He stood glancing doubtfully up and down the lonely forest road that stretched away into sun-flecked distances. + 

тАЬWhere were you going?тАЭ + 

тАЬHome.тАЭ + 

тАЬHomeтБатАФthis way?тАЭ + 

She threw her head back defiantly. тАЬTo my homeтБатАФup yonder: to the Mountain.тАЭ + 

As she spoke she became aware of a change in his face. He was no longer listening to her, he was only looking at her, with the passionate absorbed expression she had seen in his eyes after they had kissed on the stand at Nettleton. He was the new Harney again, the Harney abruptly revealed in that embrace, who seemed so penetrated with the joy of her presence that he was utterly careless of what she was thinking or feeling. + 

He caught her hands with a laugh. тАЬHow do you suppose I found you?тАЭ he said gaily. He drew out the little packet of his letters and flourished them before her bewildered eyes. + 

тАЬYou dropped them, you imprudent young personтБатАФdropped them in the middle of the road, not far from here; and the young man who is running the Gospel tent picked them up just as I was riding by.тАЭ He drew back, holding her at armтАЩs length, and scrutinizing her troubled face with the minute searching gaze of his shortsighted eyes. + 

тАЬDid you really think you could run away from me? You see you werenтАЩt meant to,тАЭ he said; and before she could answer he had kissed her again, not vehemently, but tenderly, almost fraternally, as if he had guessed her confused pain, and wanted her to know he understood it. He wound his fingers through hers. + 

тАЬComeтБатАФletтАЩs walk a little. I want to talk to you. ThereтАЩs so much to say.тАЭ + 

He spoke with a boyтАЩs gaiety, carelessly and confidently, as if nothing had happened that could shame or embarrass them; and for a moment, in the sudden relief of her release from lonely pain, she felt herself yielding to his mood. But he had turned, and was drawing her back along the road by which she had come. She stiffened herself and stopped short. + 

тАЬI wonтАЩt go back,тАЭ she said. + 

They looked at each other a moment in silence; then he answered gently: тАЬVery well: letтАЩs go the other way, then.тАЭ + 

She remained motionless, gazing silently at the ground, and he went on: тАЬIsnтАЩt there a house up here somewhereтБатАФa little abandoned houseтБатАФyou meant to show me some day?тАЭ Still she made no answer, and he continued, in the same tone of tender reassurance: тАЬLet us go there now and sit down and talk quietly.тАЭ He took one of the hands that hung by her side and pressed his lips to the palm. тАЬDo you suppose IтАЩm going to let you send me away? Do you suppose I donтАЩt understand?тАЭ + 

The little old houseтБатАФits wooden walls sun-bleached to a ghostly grayтБатАФstood in an orchard above the road. The garden palings had fallen, but the broken gate dangled between its posts, and the path to the house was marked by rosebushes run wild and hanging their small pale blossoms above the crowding grasses. Slender pilasters and an intricate fanlight framed the opening where the door had hung; and the door itself lay rotting in the grass, with an old apple-tree fallen across it. + 

Inside, also, wind and weather had blanched everything to the same wan silvery tint; the house was as dry and pure as the interior of a long-empty shell. But it must have been exceptionally well built, for the little rooms had kept something of their human aspect: the wooden mantels with their neat classic ornaments were in place, and the corners of one ceiling retained a light film of plaster tracery. + 

Harney had found an old bench at the back door and dragged it into the house. Charity sat on it, leaning her head against the wall in a state of drowsy lassitude. He had guessed that she was hungry and thirsty, and had brought her some tablets of chocolate from his bicycle-bag, and filled his drinking-cup from a spring in the orchard; and now he sat at her feet, smoking a cigarette, and looking up at her without speaking. Outside, the afternoon shadows were lengthening across the grass, and through the empty window-frame that faced her she saw the Mountain thrusting its dark mass against a sultry sunset. It was time to go. + 

She stood up, and he sprang to his feet also, and passed his arm through hers with an air of authority. тАЬNow, Charity, youтАЩre coming back with me.тАЭ + 

She looked at him and shook her head. тАЬI ainтАЩt ever going back. You donтАЩt know.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat donтАЩt I know?тАЭ She was silent, and he continued: тАЬWhat happened on the wharf was horribleтБатАФitтАЩs natural you should feel as you do. But it doesnтАЩt make any real difference: you canтАЩt be hurt by such things. You must try to forget. And you must try to understand that menтБатАКтБатАж men sometimesтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬI know about men. ThatтАЩs why.тАЭ + 

He coloured a little at the retort, as though it had touched him in a way she did not suspect. + 

тАЬWell, thenтБатАКтБатАж you must know one has to make allowances.тБатАКтБатАж HeтАЩd been drinking.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬI know all that, too. IтАЩve seen him so before. But he wouldnтАЩt have dared speak to me that way if he hadnтАЩtтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬHadnтАЩt what? What do you mean?тАЭ + 

тАЬHadnтАЩt wanted me to be like those other girls.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ She lowered her voice and looked away from him. тАЬSoтАЩs тАЩt he wouldnтАЩt have to go out.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

Harney stared at her. For a moment he did not seem to seize her meaning; then his face grew dark. тАЬThe damned hound! The villainous low hound!тАЭ His wrath blazed up, crimsoning him to the temples. тАЬI never dreamedтБатАФgood God, itтАЩs too vile,тАЭ he broke off, as if his thoughts recoiled from the discovery. + 

тАЬI wonтАЩt never go back there,тАЭ she repeated doggedly. + 

тАЬNoтБатАФтАЭ he assented. + 

There was a long interval of silence, during which she imagined that he was searching her face for more light on what she had revealed to him; and a flush of shame swept over her. + 

тАЬI know the way you must feel about me,тАЭ she broke out, тАЬтАж┬аtelling you such things.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

But once more, as she spoke, she became aware that he was no longer listening. He came close and caught her to him as if he were snatching her from some imminent peril: his impetuous eyes were in hers, and she could feel the hard beat of his heart as he held her against it. + 

тАЬKiss me againтБатАФlike last night,тАЭ he said, pushing her hair back as if to draw her whole face up into his kiss. + 