had the broken note of a sad
child's voice, the note of ultimate appeal from man to woman. "I'm a
poor creature; I know that. It's always made me ashamed--to see how you
idealise me.--The other day, you know,--when you kissed my hand--I was
horribly ashamed.--But, upon my honour Amabel, I'm not a bad fellow at
bottom,--not the devil incarnate your son seems to think me. Something
could be made of me, you know;--and, if you'll forgive me, and let me
try to win your love again;--ah Amabel--"--he pleaded, almost with
tears, before her unchangingly gentle face. And, the longing to touch
her, hold her, receive comfort and love, mingling with the new
reverential fear, he knelt beside her, putting his head on her knees and
murmuring: "I do so desperately love you."

Amabel sat looking down upon him. Her face was unchanged, but in her
heart was a trembling of astonished sadness.

It was too late. It had been too late--from the very first;--yet, if
they could have met before each was spoiled for each;--before life had
set them unalterably apart--? The great love of her life was perhaps not
all illusion.

And she seemed to sit for a moment in the dark church, dreaming of the
distant Spring-time, of brooks and primroses and prophetic birds, and of
love, young, untried and beautiful. But she did not lay her hand on Sir
Hugh's head nor move at all towards him. She sat quite still, looking
down at him, like a Madonna above a passionate supplicant, pitiful but
serene.

And as he knelt, with his face hidden, and did not hear her voice nor
feel her touch, with an unaccustomed awe the realisation of her
remoteness from him stole upon Sir Hugh.

Passion faded from his heart, even self-pity and longing faded. He
entered her visionary retrospect and knew, like her, that it was too
late; that everything was too late; that everything was really over.
And, as he realised it, a chill went over him. He felt like a strayed
reveller waking suddenly from long slumber and finding himself alone in
darkness.

He lifted his face and looked at her, needing the reassurance of her
human eyes; and they met his with their remote gentleness. For a long
moment they gazed at each other.

Then Sir Hugh, stumbling a little, got upon his feet and stood, half
turned from her, looking away into the room.

When he spoke it was in quite a different voice, it was almost the old,
usual voice, the familiar voice of their friendly encounters.

"And what are y