ous power this man possessed to so deeply
affect women, to so greatly charm every one? Was it just "it," as the
Princess had said? Anguish now fell upon Henry; there was no consolation
anywhere to be found.

He went over again all the details of the story he had heard, and
himself filled up the links in the chain. How brutal it was of Michael
to have induced her to stay--even if she remained of her own accord--and
then the frightful thoughtless recklessness of letting her go off
afterwards just because he was angry! Wild fury blazed up against his
old friend. The poor darling little girl to be left to suffer all alone!
Oh! how tender and passionately devoted he would have been under the
same circumstances. Would Michael ever make her happy or take proper
care of her? He paced his room, his mind racked with pain. Every single
turn of events came back to him, and his own incredible blindness. How
had he been so unseeing? How, to begin with, had he not recalled the
name of Sabine as being the one he had read long ago in the paper as
that of the girl whom Michael had gone through the ceremony of marriage
with? It had faded completely from his memory. Everything seemed to have
combined to lead him on to predestined disaster and misery--even in
Sabine's and Michael's combining to keep the matter secret from him not
to cause him pain--all had augmented the suffering now. If--but there
was no good in contemplating ifs--what he had to do was to think clearly
as to what would be the wisest course to secure his darling's
happiness. That must be his first consideration. After that, he must
face his own cruel fate with what courage he could command.

Her happiness could only come through the divorce proceedings being
stopped at once, and in her being free to go back to the man whom she
loved. Then the aspect that Michael had been willing to do a really fine
thing for the sake of friendship struck him--perhaps he was worthy of
Sabine, after all; and they were young and absolutely suited to one
another. No, the wickedness would have been if he, whose youth had
passed, had claimed her and come between. He was only now going through
the same agony his friend must have done, and he had a stronger motive
to help him, in the wish to secure the joy of this adored woman, whereas
Michael knew he was condemning her to sorrow as well as himself, and had
been strong enough to do it simply from honor and friendship. No, he had
no right to think