orge at the
expense of brother George's sister's lover.

It is not when a man is happy, and the errors of his life have not yet
yielded their inevitable crop of suffering, that conscience bestirs
itself. Things went smoothly with Paul Armstrong. His plays prospered
and yielded rich returns. A volume of verses gave him something more
than the reputation of the average minor poet There was no more popular
man at his clubs than he, and, if he had cared for it, he might have
been something of a social lion. As it was, he met many notable people
on terms of intimacy, and reckoned himself as rich in friendships as any
man alive; and, when the six months' probation was over, he and Madge
went quietly away together to spend in Paris a honeymoon which had not
been consecrated by any rite of the Church, and entered upon a wedded
life which was not even sanctioned by the registrar. Madge became
informally Mrs. Paul Armstrong, and, under that style and title, was
introduced to a dozen of Paul's intimates who were in no doubt as to
the facts of the case, and to hundreds of other people who accepted
the pretence without a thought of inquiry. The whole family lived
together--Madge and her mother, Bill and brother George--and things went
smoothly for two or three prosperous and happy years. In mere prosperity
and happiness there is little to record, but the heart of the Exile in
the mountains yearned over that vanished time in a bitter and unavailing
regret. How sweet it had been! With how tender a gradation the first
passion of delight in possession had softened into friendship, and
the calm love of happily wedded people, and the delicious intimate
camaraderie which springs of the unbroken companionship of board and
bed, and the sharing of every little confidence of life!

The past was obliterated; it was wiped out as cleanly as if it had
been written on a slate, and a wet sponge had been passed over it.
Practically it was forgotten, but the obliterated record sprang to light
again with an unlooked-for, dreadful swiftness.

Bill by this time had developed into Miss Hampton, and was a grown-up
young lady in real earnest, with lovers by the dozen. She and Paul were
chums, and she had no secrets from him. Her face alone was bright enough
to have made sunshine in any house; but it happened one day that Paul,
returning from rehearsal, found it blank with astonishment and pain. She
had evidently been waiting and listening for him; for at