d herself, to defend David against
any attack, or from any consequences.

All her life and hopes seemed hanging in the balance, as he began
to read the letter. With fear she saw his face cloud over, heard an
impatient exclamation pass his lips. She closed her eyes to gather
strength for the conflict which was upon her. He spoke, and she vaguely
wondered what passage in the letter had fixed his attention. His voice
seemed very far away. She scarcely understood. But presently it pierced
the clouds of numbness between them, and she realised what he was
saying:

"Vulgar fellow--I can't congratulate you upon your American cousin.
So, the Saadat is great on moral suasion, master of it--never failed
yet--not altogether--and Aunt Melissa and skim-milk and early piety!'
And 'the Saadat is a wonder from Wondertown'--like a side-show to a
circus, a marvel on the flying trapeze! Perhaps you can give me the
sense of the letter, if there is any sense in it. I can't read his
writing, and it seems interminable. Would you mind?"

A sigh of relief broke from her. A weight slipped away from her heart
and brain. It was as though one in armour awaited the impact of a heavy,
cruel, overwhelming foe, who suddenly disappeared, and the armour fell
from the shoulders, and breath came easily once again.

"Would you mind?" he repeated drily, as he folded up the letter slowly.

He handed it back to her, the note of sarcasm in his voice pricking her
like the point of a dagger. She felt angered with herself that he could
rouse her temper by such small mean irony. She had a sense of bitter
disappointment in him--or was it a deep hurt?--that she had not made him
love her, truly love her. If he had only meant the love that he swore
before they had married! Why had he deceived her? It had all been in
his hands, her fate and future; but almost before the bridal flowers had
faded, she had come to know two bitter things: that he had married with
a sordid mind; that he was incapable of the love which transmutes
the half-comprehending, half-developed affection of the maid into
the absorbing, understanding, beautiful passion of the woman. She had
married not knowing what love and passion were; uncomprehending, and
innocent because uncomprehending; with a fine affection, but capable
of loving wholly. One thing had purified her motives and her life--the
desire to share with Eglington his public duty and private hopes, to be
his confidante, his friend, his c