he is always carefully
circumspect, and so works out a patient revenge, though I believe I did
her no wrong. You have heard all I dare to tell you, and all the truth.
Judge me now."

For the last few minutes a great battle had been waging in Cecil
Tresilyan's heart. Can the wisest of us, before the armies meet,
prophesy aright as to the issue of such an Armageddon?

Twice she tried to speak, and found her voice rebellious; at last she
answered, in a faint, broken tone, "I can not say how I pity you."

He threw back his lofty head in anger or disdain.

"I will not accept groundless compassion, even from you. Do not deceive
yourself. I have learned how to bear my burden; it scarcely cumbers me
now. It has fretted me more in the last three weeks than it has done for
years. I only wish you to decide whether I did very wrong in keeping
back the knowledge of all this from you; and, if I have offended
unpardonably, what my punishment shall be."

There was something more than reproach in the glance that flashed upon
him out of the violet eyes; for an instant they glittered almost
scornfully; her lip, too, had ceased to tremble, and the silver in her
voice rang clear and true--

"You are not afraid to ask that question--remembering many words
addressed to me, each one of which was an insult--from you? You dare not
yet dishonor me in your thoughts so far as to doubt how I should have
acted _at first_, if I had known your true position. Or are you amusing
yourself still at my expense? I had thought you more generous."

The gloom on Royston's face deepened sullenly: though he had schooled
himself up to a certain point of humility, even from her he could ill
brook reproof.

"Those insults were not premeditated, at least," he retorted. "Have you
not got accustomed yet to men's losing their heads in your presence, and
then talking as the spirit moved them? And you think I am amusing myself
now. _Merci!_ there runs something in my veins warmer than ice-water."

His accent was abrupt, even to rudeness, yet Cecil felt a thrill of
guilty triumph as she heard it, and marked the shiver of passion that
shot through the colossal frame from brow to heel. A more perfect
specimen of immaculate womanhood might not have been insensible to that
acknowledgment of her power. But she shook her head in sorrowful
incredulity.

"You do less than justice to your self-control. But it is too late for
reproaches. I forgive you for any wrong that