g for the time
when her maturity might enable her to understand truly and judge wisely;
waiting till her grief for the loss of her father had become a story of
the past; waiting for God knows what a man's mind sees of obstacles when
he loves. But he had spoken it out when it was to her benefit. What,
then, had been his idea of her benefit? Was it that he wished to meet
the desire that she had manifested to have some man to--to love? . . .
The way she covered her face with her hands whilst she groaned aloud made
her answer to her own query a perfect negative.

Was it, then, to save her from the evil of marrying Leonard in case he
should repent of his harshness, and later on yield himself to her wooing?
The fierce movement of her whole body, which almost threw the clothes
from her bed, as the shameful recollection rolled over her, marked the
measure of her self-disdain.

One other alternative there was; but it seemed so remote, so far-fetched,
so noble, so unlike what a woman would do, that she could only regard it
in a shamefaced way. She put the matter to herself questioningly, and
with a meekness which had its roots deeper than she knew. And here out
of the depths of her humility came a noble thought. A noble thought,
which was a noble truth. Through the darkness of the night, through the
inky gloom of her own soul came with that thought a ray of truth which,
whilst it showed her her own shrivelled unworthiness, made the man whom
she had dishonoured with insults worse than death stand out in noble
relief. In that instant she guessed at, and realised, Harold's unselfish
nobility of purpose, the supreme effort of his constant love. Knowing
the humiliation she must have suffered at Leonard's hands, he had so
placed himself that even her rejection of him might be some solace to her
wounded spirit, her pride.

Here at last was truth! She knew it in the very marrow of her bones.

This time she did not move. She thought and thought of that noble
gentleman who had used for her sake even that pent-up passion which, for
her sake also, he had suppressed so long.

In that light, which restored in her eyes and justified so fully the man
whom she had always trusted, her own shame and wrongdoing, and the perils
which surrounded her, were for the time forgotten.

And its glory seemed to rest upon her whilst she slept.

CHAPTER XX--CONFIDENCES

Miss Rowly had received a bulky letter by the morning's post. Sh