ng taken. Long needed.

Yes, culpable neglect.

A wall?

Yes, a wall. Certainly a wall.

Bessie rose, marched to the door, opened it, hit her body against it,
and went out.

A certain degree of constraint went with her.

"I had your Father's leave to come," he said after a moment. "I should
not have ventured to do so otherwise."

"I wish Father had warned me," she said.

They looked away from each other. Here in this room fifteen years ago
they had parted. Both shivered at the remembrance.

Then they looked long at each other.

Magdalen became very pale. She saw as in a glass what was passing
through his mind; and for a moment her heart cried out against those
treacherous deserters, her beauty and her youth, that they should have
fled and left her thus, defenceless and unarmed to endure his cruel
eyes. But she remembered that he had left her before they did. They had
not availed to stay him. They had only slipped away from her in his
wake. And at the time she had hardly noticed their departure, as he was
no longer there to miss them.

Lord Lossiemouth had come determined to propose to Magdalen, his
determination screwed "to the sticking point" by a deliberately recalled
remembrance of the change the years had wrought in her. He had told
himself he was prepared for that. Nevertheless, now that he was actually
face to face with her, in spite of his regard and respect for her, a
horrid chasm seemed to yawn between them, which only one primitive
emotion can span, an emotion which, like a disused bridge, had fallen
into the gulf years ago.

And yet how marvellously strong, how immortal it had seemed once--in
this same room with this same woman. It had seemed then as if it could
not break, or fall, or fade.

It had broken, it had fallen, it had faded.

As he looked earnestly at her he became aware that though she had been
momentarily distressed a great serenity was habitual to her. The eyes
which now met his had regained their calm. It seemed as if her life had
been steeped in tranquil sunshine, as if the free air of heaven had
penetrated her whole delicate being, and had left its clear fragrance
with her.

Oh! if only they had been married fifteen years ago! What happiness they
might have given each other. How perfect to have owed it all to each
other. How fond he would still be of her. How tender their mutual regard
would still be. Then his present feeling for her would not be amiss.
They ought to be si