e had said, resolved to put the past behind him and to lead a
new life. She, a woman, with all a woman's weakness, found it a
difficult task to forgive herself the misery that she had caused; and
he, the only person who could understand and sympathise with her, who
might have strengthened her in her struggle against evil--for such he
considered must be the cause of her distress--he had neglected her, and
been perhaps a source of pain instead of encouragement. He should have
remembered that her guilt was surely not greater than his own.

Softened by these thoughts, he bent down to place his hand on her
shoulder and to kiss her forehead.

"My poor Flossy," he said, using the old pet name as he had used it for
many weary years, "you must not grieve now! Forget the past--we can but
leave it to Heaven. There is nothing--absolutely nothing now--that we
can do."

"No," she said, letting her hands fall upon her lap and wearily
submitting to his kiss--"nothing for you--nothing at all for you--now."

There was a deep meaning in her words to which he had not the slightest
clue.

CHAPTER XI.

Hubert Lepel had accepted his sister's invitation to Beechfield Hall for
two nights only; but, as he had given her to understand, he was quite
ready to come again, supposing of course that she made his visit
agreeable to him. So far--an hour and a half after his first arrival--it
had not been very agreeable. He had been obliged to allude to a matter
which was highly unpleasant to him, and he had had to stand by while his
sister burst into quite unnecessary and incomprehensible tears. He was
not so soft-hearted a man as he had been eight years ago, and he told
himself impatiently that he could not stand much more of this kind of
thing.

For the last three years he had been, as Florence had said, almost
always out of England. When his search for Jane Wood proved a failure,
he had taken a strong dislike for a time to London life and London ways.
He had been making money by his literary work, and was well able to
afford himself a little recreation. He went to Egypt therefore, and to
India, took a look at China and Japan, and came home by way of South
America. He did not care to go too much in beaten tracks; and during his
absence he wrote a book or two which were fairly successful, and a play
which made a great sensation. He had come back to London now, and was at
work upon another play, on which great hopes had been founded. If it