It was heavily framed and he knew he had never seen it there before.
The fact was Mrs. Murray, who had a very romantic heart, had seen it in
a shop-window and impulsively bought it, and it had just been sent home.

Noel, stepping with the utmost caution over the thick carpet, came near
enough to look at the picture over Christine's shoulder. He knew it
well. It was Frederick Leighton's "Wedded."

As the man and woman stood before it each was under the spell of that
beautiful representation of abandonment to love--the deep and holy
wedded love which is the God-given right of every man and woman who
lives and feels.

Christine was utterly unconscious of his nearness as she bent toward
it eagerly. He could see by the movement of her throat and shoulders
that her breaths were coming thick and fast and her heart was beating
hard. As for him the fact that he was near to her was the supreme
consciousness of that moment to him, and all the meaning of this
consciousness was in his voice, as he whispered her name:

"Christine!"

She started and turned. His eyes caught hers and held them. For a moment
she found it impossible to release them from his compelling gaze. She
was under the spell of the picture still. It had broken down the
habitual barriers of restraint and self-control, and sent an exultant
gleam into her heart, which her face reflected.

"Christine!" he said again in that thrilling whisper.

The sound of his voice recalled her. That strange, exalted look gave
place to another, which was as if a withering blight had crossed her
face, and she turned and looked at Noel. He met that look of desolation
and anguish with firm, unflinching eyes.

"I love you," he whispered low, but clear.

"Then spare me," she whispered back.

"Once more, Christine," he said. They kept their places, a few feet
apart, and neither moved a muscle except for the slight motion of their
lips, from which the faint sounds came forth like ghostly whispers.
"Once more, Christine--answer me this. Do you love me?"

And again she answered:

"No."

The tone in which she said it was strong and steady in spite of its
lowness, and the eyes confirmed it.

The suspense was over. With that strange recollectedness which human
beings often have in the sharpest crises of their lives Noel suppressed
the great sigh that had risen from his heart, and let the breath of it
go forth from his parted lips, with careful pains to make no sound.

It was a