CHAPTER XIX.
THE MOTHER.
Out of the door he went, happy in spite of all the mistakes he had made and of all the _contretemps_ of his provoking misadventure; happy in spite of the threat of arrest for burglary.

For nearly a minute August Wehle was happy in that perfect way in which people of quiet tempers are happy--happy without fluster.

But before he had passed the gate, he heard a scream and a wild hysterical laugh; he heard a hurrying of feet and saw a moving of lights.

He would fain have turned back to find out what the matter was, he had so much of interest in that house, but he remembered that he had been turned out and that he could not go back.
The feeling of outlawry mingled its bitterness with the feeling of anxiety.

He feared that something had happened to Julia; he lingered and listened.