g of the books which they both loved, and so at last,
when Nicholas announced that dejeuner was ready, some color and
animation had come back to her face.

But when she was alone in her room she looked out of the high window and
passionately threw up her arms.

"I cannot bear it again!" she wailed fiercely. "I feel an utterly
degraded wretch."

At breakfast the Pere Anselme watched her intently while he kept his
aloof air. He felt that something extra had disturbed her. He was to
stay in the house with them on Christmas night, because it was so cold
for him to return to his home after dinner, and Sabine could not
possibly spare him; she assured him he must be with them at every meal.
His wit was so apt, and with Madame Imogen's aid he kept the ball
rolling as merrily as he could. But he, no less than Henry, was
conscious that all was not well.

And afterwards, as he went towards the village, he communed with
himself, his kind heart torn with the deep-seated look of resignation in
the eyes of his Dame d'Heronac.

"She is too young to be made to suffer it," he said, half aloud. "The
good God cannot ask so much, as a price for wilfulness; and if this man
has grown as distasteful to her as her face seems to suggest, nothing
but misery could come from their dual life." It was all very cruel to
the Englishman, no doubt, but where was the wisdom of letting two people
suffer? Surely it was better to let only one pay the stakes, and if this
thing went on, both would have equal unhappiness, and be tied together
as two animals in a menagerie cage.

No gentleman should accept such a sacrifice. If the Lord Fordyce did not
realize for himself that something had changed things, it must be that
he, Gaston d'Heronac, the Pere Anselme, must intervene. It might be very
fine and noble to stick to one's word, but it became quixotic if to do
so could only bring misery to oneself and one's mate!

The good priest stalked on to his _presbytere_, and then to his church,
to see that all should be ready for _reveillon_ that night, and he was
returning to the chateau to tea when he met Henry taking a walk.

After lunch Sabine had gone off with Moravia to Girolamo's nurseries,
and Lord Fordyce had felt he must go out and get some air. Mr.
Cloudwater had started with Madame Imogen in the motor on a commission
to their little town directly they had all left the dining-room. Thus
Henry was alone.

He greeted the Pere Anselme gladly. The old