se mattered. Mrs. Wilcox, that unquiet yet
kindly ghost, must be left to her own wrong. To her everything was in
proportion now, and she, too, would pity the man who was blundering
up and down their lives. Had Mrs. Wilcox known of his trespass? An
interesting question, but Margaret fell asleep, tethered by affection,
and lulled by the murmurs of the river that descended all the night from
Wales. She felt herself at one with her future home, colouring it and
coloured by it, and awoke to see, for the second time, Oniton Castle
conquering the morning mists.

CHAPTER XXIX

"Henry dear--" was her greeting.

He had finished his breakfast, and was beginning the Times. His
sister-in-law was packing. Margaret knelt by him and took the paper from
him, feeling that it was unusually heavy and thick. Then, putting her
face where it had been, she looked up in his eyes.

"Henry dear, look at me. No, I won't have you shirking. Look at me.
There. That's all."

"You're referring to last evening," he said huskily. "I have released
you from your engagement. I could find excuses, but I won't. No, I
won't. A thousand times no. I'm a bad lot, and must be left at that."

Expelled from his old fortress, Mr. Wilcox was building a new one.
He could no longer appear respectable to her, so he defended himself
instead in a lurid past. It was not true repentance.

"Leave it where you will, boy. It's not going to trouble us; I know what
I'm talking about, and it will make no difference."

"No difference?" he inquired. "No difference, when you find that I am
not the fellow you thought?" He was annoyed with Miss Schlegel here. He
would have preferred her to be prostrated by the blow, or even to
rage. Against the tide of his sin flowed the feeling that she was not
altogether womanly. Her eyes gazed too straight; they had read books
that are suitable for men only. And though he had dreaded a scene, and
though she had determined against one, there was a scene, all the same.
It was somehow imperative.

"I am unworthy of you," he began. "Had I been worthy, I should not have
released you from your engagement. I know what I am talking about. I
can't bear to talk of such things. We had better leave it."

She kissed his hand. He jerked it from her, and, rising to his feet,
went on: "You, with your sheltered life, and refined pursuits, and
friends, and books, you and your sister, and women like you--I say, how
can you guess the temptations that li