world beside the race of aristocrats. There was
an aristocracy of brains, of genius, of character. Yet he reasoned
against his inspiration. Nothing could make him believe that the boy
who had held out his hands so eagerly toward the fire of life, had not
ended by gathering to himself experiences and a cult of living from
which any ordinary mortal would have shrunk.

"I am quite content," Rochester said, "to say what I have to say
before this lady, especially if she knows your history. I have come
here to tell you this. I have been your sponsor, perhaps your
unwilling sponsor, into the society and to the friends amongst whom
you spend your time. I am not satisfied with my sponsorship. That you
came of humble parentage, although you never allude to the fact, goes
for nothing. That you may be forgiven. But there are seven years of
your past the knowledge of which is a pledge to me. I have come to
insist upon your fulfilment of it. For seven years you disappeared.
Where were you? How did you blossom into prosperity? How is it that
you, the professor of a new cult, whose first work is as yet
unpublished, find yourself enabled to live in luxury like this? You
had no godmother then. Who is this lady? Why do you call her your
godmother? She is nothing of the sort. You and I know that--you and I
and she. There are things about you, Saton, which I find it hard to
understand. I want to understand them for the sake of my friends."

"And if you do not?" Saton asked calmly.

"Well, it must be open war," Rochester declared.

"I should say that it amounted to that now," Saton answered.

"Scarcely," Rochester declared, "for if it had been open war I should
have asked you before now to tell me where it was that you and Lord
Guerdon had met. Remember I heard the words trembling upon his lips,
and I saw your face!"

Saton did not move, nor did he speak for a moment. His cheeks were a
little pale, but he gave no sign of being moved. The woman's face was
like the face of a sphinx, withered and emotionless. Her eyes were
fixed upon Saton's.

"You have spoken to me before somewhat in this strain, sir," Saton
said. "What I said to you then, I repeat. The account between us is
ruled out. You lent or gave me a sum of money, and I returned it. As
to gratitude," he went on, "that I may or may not feel. I leave you to
judge. You can ask yourself, if you will, whether that action of yours
came from an impulse of generosity, or was merely the