ad
become to him not only a woman but a heroine. His whole heart approved
and admired her when he saw her so active, so competent, so human. And
none the less the man's natural instinct hungered to take her in his
arms, to work for her, to put her back in the shelter of love and
home--ith her children at her knee....

And how domestic was this little scene in which they stood--the
firelight, the curtained room, the tea-things, her soft, bending form,
with the signs of labour put away!...

The tears rushed to his eyes. He bent over her, and spoke her name,
almost unconsciously.

"Rachel!"

His soul was in the name!

She started, and looked up. While he had been thinking only of her, her
thoughts had gone wandering--far away. And they seemed to have brought
back--not the happy yielding of a woman to her lover--but distress and
fear. A shock ran through him.

"Rachel!--" He held out his hands to her. He could not find words, but
his eyes spoke, and the agitation in every feature.

But she drew back.

"Don't--don't say anything--till--"

His look held her--the surprise in it--the tender appeal. She could not
take hers from it. But the disturbance in him deepened. For in the face
she raised to him there was no flood of maidenly joy. Suddenly--her eyes
were those of a culprit examining her judge. A cry sprang to his lips.

"Wait!--wait!" she said piteously.

She fell back in her chair, covering her face, her breast heaving. He saw
that she was trying to command herself, to steady her voice. One of those
forebodings which are the children of our half-conscious observation shot
through him. But he would not admit it.

He stooped over her and tried again to take her hand. But she drew it
away, and sat up in her chair. She was very white, and there were tears
in her eyes.

"I've got something to say to you," she said, with evident difficulty,
"which--I'm afraid--will surprise you very much. Of course I ought to
have told you--long ago. But I'm a coward, and--and--it was all so
horrible. I am not what you suppose me. I'm--a married woman--at least I
was. I divorced my husband--eighteen months ago. I'm quite free now. I
thought if you really cared about me--I should of course have to tell you
some time--but I've been letting it go on. It was very wrong of me--I
know it was very wrong!"

And bowing her face on her knees, she burst into a passion of weeping,
the weeping of a child who was yet a woman. The mingled i