ence, and to forbid her all hope of his forgiveness, he had, in a
manner, not meant to do it. He had kept a secret place in his soul where
the sinner against him could find refuge from his justice, and when this
sanctuary remained unattempted he found himself with a regret that he
had barred the way to it so effectually. The regret was so vague, so
formless, however, that he could tacitly deny it to himself at all
times, and explicitly deny it to his mother at such times as her touch
taught him that it was tangible.

One day, after ten or twelve days had gone by, she asked him, "You
haven't heard anything more from that girl?"

"What girl?" he returned, as if he did not know; and he frowned. "You
mean the girl that wrote me about my story?"

He continued to frown rather more darkly. "I don't see how you could
expect me to hear from her, after what I wrote. But, to be categorical,
I haven't, mother."

"Oh, of course not. Did you think she would be so easily silenced?"

"I did what I could to crush her into silence."

"Yes, and you did quite right; I am more and more convinced of that. But
such a very tough young person might have refused to stay crushed. She
might very naturally have got herself into shape again and smoothed out
the creases, at least so far to try some further defence."

"It seems that she hasn't," Verrian said, still darkly, but not so
frowningly.

"I should have fancied," his mother suggested, "that if she had wanted
to open a correspondence with you--if that was her original object--she
would not have let it drop so easily."

"Has she let it drop easily? I thought I had left her no possible chance
of resuming it."

"That is true," his mother said, and for the time she said no more about
the matter.

Not long after this he came home from the magazine office and reported
to her from Armiger that the story was catching on more and more with
the best class of readers. The editor had shown Verrian some references
to it in newspapers of good standing and several letters about it.

"I thought you might like to look at the letters," Verrian said, and
he took some letters from his pocket and handed them to her across the
lunch-table. She did not immediately look at them, because he went on
to add something that they both felt to be more important. "Armiger says
there has been some increase of the sales, which I can attribute to my
story if I have the cheek."

"That is good."

"And the house w