he struck away to the other extreme of those who have a
choice in mixed motives: he protested that compassion had been the cause
of it. Looking at the circumstance now, he could see, allowing for human
frailty-perhaps a wish to join the ranks of the wealthy compassion for
the woman as the principal motive. How often had she not in those old
days praised his generosity for allying his golden youth to her withered
age--Mrs. Burman's very words! And she was a generous woman or had been:
she was generous in saying that. Well, and she was generous in having
a well-born, well-bred beautiful young creature like Nataly for
her companion, when it was a case of need for the dear girl; and
compassionately insisting, against remonstrances: they were spoken by
him, though they were but partial. How, then, had she become--at least,
how was it that she could continue to behave as the vindictive Fury who
persecuted remorselessly, would give no peace, poisoned the wells round
every place where he and his dear one pitched their tent!

But at last she had come to charity, as he could well believe. Not too
late! Victor's feeling of gratitude to Mrs. Burman assured him it was
genuine because of his genuine conviction, that she had determined to
end her incomprehensibly lengthened days in reconcilement with him: and
he had always been ready to 'forget and forgive.' A truly beautiful old
phrase! It thrilled off the most susceptible of men.

His well-kept secret of the spacious country-house danced him behind a
sober demeanour from one park to another; and along beside the drive
to view of his townhouse--unbeloved of the inhabitants, although by
acknowledgement it had, as Fredi funnily drawled, to express her sense
of justice in depreciation, 'good accommodation.' Nataly was at home,
he was sure. Time to be dressing: sun sets at six-forty, he said, and
glanced at the stained West, with an accompanying vision of outspread
primroses flooding banks of shadowy fields near Lakelands.

He crossed the road and rang.

Upon the opening of the door, there was a cascade of muslin downstairs.
His darling Fredi stood out of it, a dramatic Undine.

CHAPTER VI. NATALY

'Il segreto!' the girl cried commandingly, with a forefinger at his
breast.

He crossed arms, toning in similar recitative, with anguish, 'Dove
volare!'

They joined in half a dozen bars of operatic duet.

She flew to him, embraced and kissed.

'I must have it, my papa! unloc