have told the lie, but for the reflection it would
compromise an innocent woman.

"Captain, in God's name, speak! do you not see that I am quiet and
self-controlled?"

"Chevalier de la Mora, I shall tell you the exact truth, and hold you
to your promise that there shall be no violence--now. What I did was
through my fault alone, nor did your lady give me the slightest
encouragement--she is blameless. It is a sore strait you have placed
me in, but _this_ is the lady who has all a soldier's love, and a
soldier's respect, which she has done nothing to forfeit."

As I spoke, I indicated the shrinking figure of Agnes, and turned to
meet the storm. Verily the storm did come, but from a different source.

The elder lady rose with a fervent "Thank God!" which I could find no
reason for her saying. Agnes nervously twisted at the table cover, her
cheeks crimson with the shame. I could not resist a long look down
upon her, and do what I might, my love showed full and strong in my
face and mien.

De la Mora keenly watched us all. That other lady, for whom I had no
thought, to my utter surprise, moved toward him with hands
outstretched, and cried:

"Charles."

For a moment he hesitated, then:

"Oh, Agnes, Agnes, a lifetime's love and service can not compensate you
for what I've made you suffer--the doubt I bore my loyal wife."

He fell upon his knee before her and carried her hand to his lips as
though she were a goddess, and then sprang toward me with the gladdest
of glad smiles, thrust his hand at me, and came near to cracking mine
by the vigor of his grasp. His throat choked up, and he said nothing.

And all this while I looked from one to the other with a most dull and
stupid stare.

Agnes looked up at me once, radiant and confused, then lowered her eyes
again.

The Chevalier broke a silence which was becoming intolerable, to me at
least, who did not understand it all.

"Captain de Mouret, you have been in error, and have done me no wrong.
This lady here is my worshiped wife, Madame Agnes de la Mora." I
looked upon her incredulously, while that gracious woman took one hand
from her husband long enough to extend to me her greeting.

Thoroughly perplexed by this most unlooked for denouement, I asked:

"Who, then, is _this_?"

"This chit," he replied, walking round the table, happy as a boy, and
almost lifting her bodily, "this is Madame's little sister, Charlotte.
She confessed this evening to having