h. All the way over, he had paced the steamer's deck by the hour,
planning what words he should say to Beatrix when at last they stood
face to face, with only the long-buried dead between them. He had
supposed that lie had learned his lesson by heart. Nevertheless, now
that he was at last in her presence, his words fled from his mind.
Beatrix broke the silence.

"You have seen Bobby, then?"

"He met me at the steamer."

She raised her eyes to his, half-appealingly, half-defiantly.

"And he told you--"

"He has told me everything," Thayer interrupted her. He rose restlessly,
crossed the room to the mantel and examined a vase with unseeing eyes.
Then, returning, he halted directly before her, straightened his
shoulders and drew a deep, full breath. "Beatrix?" he said unsteadily.

She shrank from before the words she had been dreading for so long.

"Don't!" she begged him.

"But I must." His voice was steady now. "We both of us know the truth,
and the time has come when we can acknowledge it. I have waited long,
dear, long and patiently. For fifteen months, I have left you to
yourself and to the past. Now it is time for the future. I have come
home, Beatrix, to marry you at last."

Before the glad tenderness that thrilled in his tone, she sank back in
her deep chair and buried her face in her hands. Thayer waited quietly,
patiently. He had told his story; he could afford to wait for her
answer, since he never doubted what it was to be. The silence between
them lasted for moments. From upstairs in another part of the house,
there came a fretful childish cry. Then the stillness dropped again. At
length, Beatrix let her hands fall into her lap. There was an instant of
utter listlessness; then quietly she rose and stood facing him, drawn to
her full height. Her cheeks were white, her eyes unstained by any tears,
her voice quite level.

"I am sorry," she said slowly; "but what you ask is impossible."

He started, as if struck with a lash.

"What do you mean?"

"That I cannot marry you."

He stared at her in amazement, while the color left his cheeks and then
rushed again to his temples where the veins stood out like knotted
cords. For the moment, he was angry, baffled by the shock of her
unexpected answer. Then he mastered himself.

"Do you not love me any longer?" he asked.

"Any longer?" Her tone sought to express haughty disdain; but her eyes
drooped before the fire in his own.

"Never mind the words,"