n that way," he said.

"How could I trust you more?"

"With--yourself."

"That is a--lesser trust," she said faintly. "It is for you that I have
been afraid."

He saw the colour deepen in her cheeks, looked, bit his lip in silence.

"To-morrow?" she said under her breath.

"Yes."

"Good-bye till then."

"Good-bye."

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XXVI

THE next day he didn't appear, but a letter did.

"I merely lied to you," he wrote. "All gamblers are liars. You should
have passed by on the other side."

Yes, that is what she should have done; she realised it now alone there
in the sunny parlour with his letter.

There was no chance for him; or, if there was, she had not been chosen as
the instrument of his salvation.

Slowly she turned her head and looked around her at her preparations--the
pitiful little preparations for him--the childish stage setting for the
scene of his salvation.

The spotless parlour had been re-dusted, cleaned, rubbed to its old-time
polish. Bible and prayer-book on the mahogany centre-table had been
arranged and re-arranged so many times that she no longer knew whether or
not her art concealed art, and was innocently fearful that he might
suspect the mise-en-scene and fight shy of her preparations for his
regeneration.

Again and again she had re-arranged the flowers and books and rumpled the
un-read morning newspaper to give to the scene a careless and casual
every-day allure; again and again she had straightened the rugs, then
tried them in less symmetrical fashion. She let the kitten in to give a
more home-like air to the room, but it squalled to go out, and she had to
release it.

Also, from the best spare room she had brought Holman Hunt's "Shadow of
the Cross"--and it had taxed her slender strength to hang it in place of
the old French mezzotint of Bacchus and Ariadne.

But the most difficult task was to disseminate among the stiff pieces of
furniture and the four duplicate sofa cushions an atmosphere of pleasant
and casual disorder--as though guests had left them where they were--as
though the rigid chairs were accustomed to much and intimate usage.

But the effect troubled her; every formal bit of furniture seemed to be
arranged as for an ambuscade; the cushions on the carved sofa sat in a
row, like dwarfs waiting; the secretary watched, every diamond pane a
glittering eye. And on the wall the four portraits of her parents and
grand-parents were b