struction. She looked at her granddaughter, and Ethel felt that she wanted to warn her of something but could not.
"Now we will all hear your opinions," her grandfather said; and, before the others, he made her accuse Kincheloe and himself again. Then he went once more to the door.
"Lieutenant Loutrelle!" he called. "Mr. Barney Loutrelle, will you step in here!"
Ethel heard him making the summons as to some one who was alive; she heard a reply,—a voice which might be Barney Loutrelle's and a step in the hallway. Her grandfather spoke again, and the voice which again answered made her shut her eyes for dizziness. It brought back the echo of the song which, heard yesterday, had been resounding within her: "Ah! J'y étais mousquetaire!"
He was not dead! She opened her eyes to see him in the doorway; he entered and came toward her, speaking to her. Everything wavered about him; but he did not waver in her sight. She cried out—or whispered—something in reply to the words he was saying. She knew neither what she said nor how she said it.
Her grandfather was grabbing at her, saying something; and Miss Platt was addressing her; but Ethel heeded neither of them. She recognized that they were demanding, in their different ways, that she apologize and demean herself and ask forgiveness of them, and of Kincheloe, and of God, for her reckless accusations. But she could not think about them; besides, nothing about them had changed. Barney Loutrelle was alive; yet—yet everything else was the same. They had done what they had done; but not to her friend.
