ked; that was the justification I accounted sufficient."

"But then," she cried, a new horror breaking on her mind--"if this is
discovered--Terence, what will become of you?"

He turned and came slowly back until he stood beside her. Facing now the
inevitable, he recovered some of his calm.

"It must be discovered," he said quietly. "For the sake of everybody
concerned it must--"

"Oh, no, no!" She sprang up and clutched his arm in terror. "They may
fail to discover the truth."

"They must not, my dear," he answered her; stroking the fair head that
lay against his breast. "They must not fail. I must see to that."

"You? You?" Her eyes dilated as she looked at him. She caught her breath
on a gasping sob. "Ah no, Terence," she cried wildly. "You must not; you
must not. You must say nothing--for my sake, Terence, if you love me,
oh, for my sake, Terence!"

"For honour's sake, I must," he answered her. "And for the sake of
Sylvia and of Tremayne, whom I have wronged, and--"

"Not for my sake, Terence," Sylvia interrupted him.

He looked at her, and then at Tremayne.

"And you, Ned--what do you say?" he asked.

"Ned could not wish--" began her ladyship.

"Please let him speak for himself, my dear," her husband interrupted
her.

"What can I say?" cried Tremayne, with a gesture that was almost of
anger. "How can I advise? I scarcely know. You realise what you must
face if you confess?"

"Fully, and the only part of it I shrink from is the shame and scorn I
have deserved. Yet it is inevitable. You agree, Ned?"

"I am not sure. None who understands as I understand can feel anything
but regret. Oh, I don't know. The evidence of what you suspected was
overwhelming, and it betrayed you into this mistake. The punishment you
would have to face is surely too heavy, and you have suffered far more
already than you can ever be called upon to suffer again, no matter what
is done to you. Oh, I don't know! The problem is too deep for me. There
is Una to be considered, too. You owe a duty to her, and if you keep
silent it may be best for all. You can depend upon us to stand by you in
this."

"Indeed, indeed," said Sylvia.

He looked at them and smiled very tenderly.

"Never was a man blessed with nobler friends who deserved so little of
them," he said slowly. "You heap coals of fire upon my head. You shame
me through and through. But have you considered, Ned, that all may not
depend upon my silence? What if the provost