p which was all that she could ever give him, then
it would have been worth the sacrifice.

Gradually the stony look of despair lifted from her face, and a new
spirit of resolution took possession of her. She was not the only person
in the world who had to suffer. There were others, Peter amongst them,
who were debarred by circumstances from finding happiness, and who went
on doing their duty unflinchingly. It was only she who had
failed--letting Roger bear the cost of her mistake. She had promised to
marry him when it seemed the only way out of the difficulties which beset
her, and now she was not honouring that promise. While Peter Mallory was
still waiting quietly for the wife he no longer loved to come back to
him--keeping the door of his house open to her whenever she should choose
to claim fulfilment of the pledges he had given the day he married her.

Nan leaned her head against the window-pane, realising that, whatever
Roger's faults might he, she, too, had fallen short.

"Our troth, Nan. Hang on to it--_hard_, when life seems a bit more
uphill than usual."

She could hear Peter's voice, steady and clear and reassuring, almost as
she had heard it that night on the headland at Tintagel. She felt her
throat contract and a burning mist of tears blurred her vision. For a
moment she fought desperately against her weakness. Then, with a little
strangled cry, she buried her face against her arm and broke into a
passion of tears.

CHAPTER XXII

THE OFFERING OF FIRST-FRUITS

The concerto was finished! Finished, at least, as far as it was
possible without rehearsing the effect with orchestra, and as Nan
turned over the sheets of manuscript, thickly dotted with their medley
of notes and rests and slurs, she was conscious of that glorious thrill
of accomplishment which is the creative artist's recompense for long
hours of work and sacrifice,--and for those black moments of
discouragement and self-distrust which no true artist can escape.

She sat very quietly in the West Parlour, thinking of the concerto and
of what she meant to do with it. She was longing to show it to Sandy
McBain, who would have a musician's comprehension of every bar, and she
knew he would rejoice with her whole-heartedly over it. But that would
have to wait until after Roger had heard it. The first-fruits, as it
were, were to be offered to him.

She had it all planned out in her mind. Roger was out hunting to-day,
so that