bloom in the silence that
follows--not that which precedes--the storm.' This applies perfectly to
a talent or a vocation. If the mood is there, in spite of fatigue, or
discouragement, or other claims--happiness for that matter--you may
depend that it is the ruling motive of your life and not to be
vanquished. You must follow the bent or you will suffer--suffer till you
die of it."

"How? in what way?"

"Either in your vanity or your conscience; either by the world's
judgment on your conduct or by your own estimate of your conduct. You
have no vanity, so the world doesn't count. But you have a conscience,
and that counts for all!"

He had not calculated, and he could not have foreseen, the effect of his
words. Her eyes filled with tears.

"My dearest," she said, "don't you see how trivial everything is to me
in comparison with you? But I dare not love you so much as I can! So I
encourage other enthusiasms--out of fear. Sometimes it seems as though
the extraordinary, impossible ideal would be to have you with me for
ever, and be an actress as well. But that is out of the question. And if
I had my choice--if I could be as great as Rachel or Mrs. Siddons, or
live with you on my dear rag-heap, with the jackals howling--do you
think that I would hesitate, that I could hesitate?"

"If I believed you I should be a dreadful coxcomb!"

"Risk the coxcomb," she said. "I can!"

A clanging bell and the noise of traffic on the quay recalled them to
the moment. They had barely time to reach the steamer and get on board.
A strong, cold breeze was blowing; the sun shone full on the sea, which,
near the horizon, was as green as the sky on a summer evening. But
clouds were gathering in the north-west, and the peculiar brightness
which presages rain lent a fugitive brilliancy to the atmosphere. The
town and its spires glittered; the water, frothing round the
paddle-wheels, sent its shining spray upon the brown boards of the
wharf. Brigit kissed her hands toward France.

"Soon," she exclaimed, "soon I can kiss its ground. How I love my
country and the place where you lived, Robert, as a boy!"

CHAPTER X

Lady Fitz Rewes had determined to prevent the marriage of Lord Reckage
with Agnes Carillon. She could not forget the dreadful scene with Sara
when that poor girl was endeavouring to reconcile herself to the Duke of
Marshire's proposal. Pensee had studied each person concerned in the
possible tragedy. She saw that Agnes