nown
in many years among the phantoms. I thought your sister-in-law
was. But you are still more real."

"Am I?" she laid her other hand over his, considering him
earnestly. Ailsa looking on, astonished, noticed a singular
radiance on his face--the pale transfiguration from some quick
inward illumination.

Then Celia Craig's voice sounded almost caressingly:

"I think you should have come to see us long ago." A pause. "You
are as welcome in this house as your mother would be if she were
living. I love and honour her memory."

"I have honoured little else in the world," he said. They looked
at one another for a moment; then her quick smile broke out. "I
have an album. There are some Paiges, Ormonds, and Berkleys in
it----"

Ailsa came forward slowly.

"Shall I look for it, Celia?"

"No, Honey-bell." She turned lightly and went into the back
parlour, smiling mysteriously to herself, her vast, pale-blue
crinoline rustling against the furniture.

"My sister-in-law," said Ailsa, after an interval of silent
constraint, "is very Southern. Any sort of kinship means a great
deal to her. I, of course, am Northern, and regard such matters as
unimportant."

"It is very gracious of Mrs. Craig to remember it," he said. "I
know nothing finer than confidence in one's own kin."

She flushed angrily. "I have not that confidence--in kinsman."

For a moment their eyes met. Hers were hard as purple steel.

"Is that final?"

"Yes."

The muscles in his cheeks grew tense, then into his eyes came that
reckless glimmer which in the beginning she had distrusted--a gay,
irresponsible radiance which seemed to mock at all things worthy.

He said: "No, it is not final. I shall come back to you."

She answered him in an even, passionless voice:

"A moment ago I was uncertain; now I know you. You are what they
say you are. I never wish to see you again."

Celia Craig came back with the album. Berkley sprang to relieve
her of the big book and a box full of silhouettes, miniatures, and
daguerreotypes. They placed the family depository upon the table
and then bent over it together.

Ailsa remained standing by the window, looking steadily at nothing,
a burning sensation in both cheeks.

At intervals, through the intensity of her silence, she heard
Celia's fresh, sweet laughter, and Berkley's humorous and engaging
voice. She glanced sideways at the back of his dark curly head
where it bent beside Celia's over