ispensation of
Providence. And the sins of the parents are visited on the child, as is
the usual inscrutable custom of such dispensations."

Elisabeth seemed to disregard the bitter gibe his speech contained. She
looked at him with steady eyes.

"I want you--out of the way," she said deliberately.

"Indeed?" The indifferent, drawling tone was contradicted by the sudden
dangerous light that gleamed in the hazel eyes. "You mean you want
me--to pay--once more?"

She looked away uneasily, flushing a little.

"I'm afraid it does amount to that," she admitted.

"And how would you suggest it should be done?" he inquired composedly.

Her eyes came back to his face. There was an eager light in them, and
when she spoke the words hurried from her lips in imperative demand.

"Oh, it would be so easy, Maurice! You have only to convince Sara that
you are not fit to marry her--or any woman, for that matter! Tell
her what your reputation is--tell her why you can never show yourself
amongst your fellow men, why you live here under an assumed name. She
won't want to marry you when she knows these things, and Tim would have
his chance to win her back again."

"You mean--let me quite understand you, Elisabeth"--Trent spoke with
curious precision--"that I am to blacken myself in Sara's eyes, so that,
discovering what a wolf in sheep's clothing I am, she will break off our
engagement. That, I take it, is your suggestion?"

Beneath his searching glance she faltered a moment. Then--

"Yes," she answered boldly. "That is it."

"It's a charming programme," he commented. "But it doesn't seem to me
that you have considered Sara at all in the matter. It will hardly add
to her happiness to find that she has given her heart to--what shall we
say?"--smiling disagreeably--"to the wrong kind of man?"

"Of, of course, she will be upset, _disillusionnee_, for a time. She
will suffer. But then we all have our share of suffering. Sara cannot
hope to be exempt. And afterwards--afterwards"--her eyes shining--"she
will be happy. She and Tim will be happy together."

"And so you are prepared to cause all this suffering, Sara's and
mine--though I suppose"--with a bitter inflection--"that last hardly
counts with you!--in order to secure Tim's happiness?"

"Yes," significantly, "I am prepared--to do anything to secure that."

Trent stared at her in blank amazement.

"Have you _no_ conscience?" he asked at last. "Have you never had any?"

She l