ou, and couldn't cease loving you, however I
tried. Then, to my father's will, which makes me live in hiding, as if I
were a criminal. And then--'

'What other tyranny?'

'You mustn't expect all my love. Before long some one else will rule
over me.--What an exchange I have made! And I was going to be so
independent.'

To the listener, her speech seemed to come from a maturer mind than she
had hitherto revealed. But he suffered from the thought that this might
be merely a pathological phase. In reminding him of her motherhood, she
checked the flow of his emotion.

'You'll remember,' Nancy went on, 'that I'm not enjoying myself whilst
you are away. I don't want you to be unhappy--only to think of me, and
keep in mind what I'm going through. If you do that, you won't be away
from me longer than you can help.'

It was said with unforced pathos, and Tarrant's better part made
generous reply.

'If you find it too hard, dear, write to me, and tell me, and there
shall be an end of it.'

'Never. You think me wretchedly weak, but you shall see--'

'It's of your own free will you undertake it?'

'Yes, of my own free will,' she answered firmly. 'I won't come to you
penniless. It isn't right I should do so. My father didn't mean that. If
I had had the sense and the courage to tell him, all this misery would
have been spared. That money is mine by every right, and I won't lose
it. Not only for your sake and my own--there is some one else to think
of.'

Tarrant gave her a kind look.

'Don't count upon it. Trust to me.'

'I like to hear you say that, but I don't wish you to be put to proof.
You are not the kind of man to make money.'

'How do you mean it?'

'As you like to take it. Silly boy, don't I love you just because you
are _not_ one of the money-making men? If you hadn't a penny in the
world, I should love you just the same; and I couldn't love you more if
you had millions.'

The change which Tarrant expected did not come. To the end, she was
brave and bright, her own best self. She said good-bye without a tear,
refused to let him accompany her, and so, even as she had resolved, left
in her husband's mind an image beckoning his return.

Part IV: The Veiled Figure

CHAPTER 1

Before his admission to a partnership in Mr. Lord's business, Samuel
Barmby lived with his father and two sisters in Coldharbour Lane. Their
house was small, old and crumbling for lack of repair; the landlord, his
gr