esque--not the circumstance of your being still alive, but of
your wishing to die. But, indeed, I shall understand, you poor child,
poor sweet child, if you will explain."

Again the mirage sense of compulsion, of peace in yielding to it, of
letting this ghost-like consciousness shut out the long past and the
short future, crept over her. She sank back again beside him.

"But how can I explain? Where shall I begin?"

"Listen to me now, dear Allida--we can use Christian names, I think, in
a case of last dying confession like this. I am not going to prevent
you, or put any constraint upon you; but I want you to explain as
clearly and fully as you can, so that, in trying to make me see, you may
see yourself, clearly and fully, what you are doing, where you are.
Probably you are in a condition of absolutely irrational despair. Let us
look at it together. I may be able to show you something else. Begin
with him. Who is he?"

Allida had leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. She dropped her face
into her hands as she answered:

"Oliver Ainslie."

"Yes; I know him."

"Yes; you know him."

"He is--a charming fellow," said Haldicott.

"I met him over a year ago," said Allida. "I am very miserable at home.
I have grown up alone. My mother and I have never been at all
sympathetic. I hardly saw her when I was growing up. She only wanted to
marry me off as soon as possible, and--she hasn't found it easy to marry
me off. I haven't money--or looks in particular--oh, but I can't go into
all that! You know mamma. I have hated my life with her."

"Yes, yes. I understand."

"Not that there is any harm in mamma," Allida amended, with a weary
exactitude; "everybody understands that, too. Only she is so utterly
silly, so utterly selfish. This all sounds horrible."

"I understand."

"I met him. I had never seen any one so dear, so sympathetic. I seemed
to breathe with happiness when he was there. It was like morning
sunlight after a hot, glaring ballroom, being with him. He never cared
one bit for me; but--the first time I saw him he smiled at me, and he
was kind and dear to me,--as he would be to any one,--and from that
first moment I loved him--oh, loved him!"

She paused, a sacred sweetness in the pause.

Haldicott, sitting beside her in the fog, felt the presence of something
radiant and snowy.

"And I sometimes thought and hoped--that he would care for me. I wrote
to him all the time, letters I never sent; but I wr