u to remember, you are
dealing with an unknown quantity. You have never before known intimately
a man of Jim Airth's temperament. His love for you, and yours for him,
hold elements as yet not fully understood by you. Remember this, in
drawing your conclusions. I had almost said, Let instinct guide, rather
than reason."

"I understand your meaning," said Lady Ingleby. "But I dare not depend
upon either instinct or reason. I have not been a religious woman, Jane,
as of course you know; but--I have been learning lately; and, as I learn,
I try to practise. I feel myself to be in so dark and difficult a place,
that I am trying to say, 'Even _there_ shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy
right Hand shall hold me.'"

"Ah, you are right," said Jane's deep earnest voice; "that is the best of
all. God's hand alone leads surely, out of darkness into light."

She put a kind arm firmly around her friend, for a moment.

Then:--"I will send him to you in an hour," she said, and left the room.

Lady Ingleby was alone.

CHAPTER XXV

THE TEST

The door of Myra's sitting-room opened quietly, and Jim Airth came in.

She awaited him upon the couch, sitting very still, her hands folded in
her lap.

The room seemed full of flowers, and of soft sunset light.

He closed the door, and came and stood before her.

For a few moments they looked steadily into one another's faces.

Then Jim Airth spoke, very low.

"It is so good of you to see me," he said. "It is almost more than I had
ventured to hope. I am leaving England in a few hours. It would have been
hard to go--without this. Now it will be easy."

She lifted her eyes to his, and waited in silence.

"Myra," he said, "can you forgive me?"

"I do not know, Jim," she answered, gently. "I want to be quite honest
with you, and with myself. If I had cared less, I could have forgiven
more easily."

"I know," he said. "Oh, Myra, I know. And I would not have you forgive
lightly, so great a sin against our love. But, dear--if, before I go, you
could say, 'I understand,' it would mean almost more to me, than if you
said, 'I forgive.'"

"Jim," said Myra, gently, a tremor of tenderness in her sweet voice, "I
understand."

He came quite near, and took her hands in his, holding them for a moment,
with tender reverence.

"Thank you, dear," he said. "You are very good."

He loosed her hands, and again she folded them in her lap. He walked to
the mantelpiece and stood looking down