ut which she had been
acutely aware of Eldred's presence on the farther side of her barred and
bolted door. He had told her plainly that, until he felt quite sure of
himself, he dared not take her back. Yet now, by her own unconsidered
act, she was forcing upon him, at the least, a public recognition of
their marriage; an acknowledgment that might make further separation
difficult, if not impossible, for the present. All her pride and
independence of spirit revolted against this unvarnished statement of
fact; and the memory of Michael's random remark heightened her nervous
apprehension. Yet, on the other hand, Love--who is a born
peace-maker--argued that, after all, he might not be sorry to have his
hand forced by so clear a proof of all that she was ready to do and
suffer on his behalf. An argument strongly reinforced by her original
determination to overrule his scruples, and help him in the struggle that
loomed ahead.

In this fashion Love and Pride tossed decision to and fro, as they have
done in a hundred heart-histories; till common-sense stepped in with the
reminder that Eldred was waiting; and that by now retreat was out of the
question. The thought roused her to a more normal state of confidence
and courage. Putting away palette and brushes, she covered up her
canvas: and because, for all her artistry, she was very much a woman,
went straightway--not to her husband's door--but to her own mirror! The
vision that looked out at her was by no means discouraging: a demure
vision, in a simple, unconventional gown of green linen, with a Puritan
collar, and a wide white ribbon at the waist. A few superfluous touches
to her hair, and equally superfluous tweaks to the bow of her ribbon
belt, wrought some infinitesimal improvement in the picture, which no
mere man, hungering for the sight and sound of her, would be the least
likely to detect. Then half a dozen swift steps brought her to his door:
the one that communicated with the dining-room.

It opened on to a curtain, about which there still clung a faint
suggestion of carbolic.

"Eldred?" she said softly. And the voice she had last heard through the
hiss of rain, and the crash of broken branches, answered: "Come in."

She pushed aside the curtain, and stood so, paralysed by a nervousness
altogether new to her.

He lay on a Madeira lounge-chair, with pillows at his back. Every bone
in his face, every line scored by the graving-tools of conflict and pai