e of these, standing
motionless before a small marble statue of some forgotten Greek poet,
that Wingrave found his visitor. She wore a plain serge traveling dress,
and the pallor of her face, from which she had just lifted a voluminous
veil, matched almost in color the gleaming white marble upon which
she was gazing. But when she saw Wingrave, leaning upon his stick, and
regarding her with stern surprise, strange lights seemed to flash in
her eyes. There was no longer any resemblance between the pallor of her
cheeks and the pallor of the statue.

"Lady Ruth," Wingrave said quietly, "I do not understand what has
procured for me the pleasure of this unexpected visit."

She swayed a little towards him. Her head was thrown back, all the
silent passion of the inexpressible, the hidden secondary forces of
nature, was blazing out of her eyes, pleading with him in the broken
music of her tone.

"You do not understand," she repeated. "Ah, no! But can I make you
understand? Will you listen to me for once as a human being? Will
you remember that you are a man, and I a woman pleading for a little
mercy--a little kindness?"

Wingrave moved a step further back.

"Permit me," he said, "to offer you a chair."

She sank into it--speechless for a moment. Wingrave stood over her,
leaning slightly against the corner of the bookcase.

"I trust," he said, "that you will explain what all this means. If it is
my help which you require--"

Her hands flashed out towards him--a gesture almost of horror.

"Don't," she begged, "you know that it is not that! You know very well
that it is not. Why do you torture me?"

"I can only ask you," he said, "to explain."

She commenced talking quickly. Her sentences came in little gasps.

"You wanted revenge--not in the ordinary way. You had brooded over it
too long. You understood too well. Once it was I who sought to revenge
myself on you because you would not listen to me! You hurt my pride.
Everything that was evil in me rebelled--"

"Is this necessary?" he interrupted coldly. "I have never reproached
you. You chose the path of safety for yourself. Many another woman in
your place would doubtless have done the same thing! What I desire to
know is why you are here in Cornwall. What has happened to make this
journey seem necessary to you?"

"Listen!" she continued. "I want you to know how thoroughly you have
succeeded. Before you came, Lumley and I were living together decently
enough, and