n for not marrying us fifteen
years ago!'

It is unnecessary to dwell further upon that parting. There are scenes
wherein the words spoken do not even approximate to the level of the
mental communion between the actors. Suffice it to say that part they
did, and quickly; and Nicholas, more dead than alive, went out of the
house homewards.

Why had he ever come back? During his absence he had not cared for
Christine as he cared now. If he had been younger he might have felt
tempted to descend into the meads instead of keeping along their edge.
The Froom was down there, and he knew of quiet pools in that stream to
which death would come easily. But he was too old to put an end to
himself for such a reason as love; and another thought, too, kept him
from seriously contemplating any desperate act. His affection for her
was strongly protective, and in the event of her requiring a friend's
support in future troubles there was none but himself left in the world
to afford it. So he walked on.

Meanwhile Christine had resigned herself to circumstances. A resolve to
continue worthy of her history and of her family lent her heroism and
dignity. She called Mrs. Wake, and explained to that worthy woman as
much of what had occurred as she deemed necessary. Mrs. Wake was too
amazed to reply; she retreated slowly, her lips parted; till at the door
she said with a dry mouth, 'And the beautiful supper, ma'am?'

'Serve it when he comes.'

'When Mr. Bellston--yes, ma'am, I will.' She still stood gazing, as if
she could hardly take in the order.

'That will do, Mrs. Wake. I am much obliged to you for all your
kindness.' And Christine was left alone again, and then she wept.

She sat down and waited. That awful silence of the stopped clock began
anew, but she did not mind it now. She was listening for a footfall in a
state of mental tensity which almost took away from her the power of
motion. It seemed to her that the natural interval for her husband's
journey thither must have expired; but she was not sure, and waited on.

Mrs. Wake again came in. 'You have not rung for supper--'

'He is not yet come, Mrs. Wake. If you want to go to bed, bring in the
supper and set it on the table. It will be nearly as good cold. Leave
the door unbarred.'

Mrs. Wake did as was suggested, made up the fire, and went away. Shortly
afterwards Christine heard her retire to her chamber. But Christine
still sat on, and still her hu