ty him that out of the depths
of her pity she would forgive. She would take back all the past; and now
that she knew of his old love for her, would perhaps be willing to marry
him. Back flooded the old memory of her independence and her theory of
sexual equality. If out of any selfish or mistaken idea she did not
hesitate to ask a man to marry her, would it be likely that when the
nobler and more heroic side of her nature spoke she would hesitate to a
similar act in pursuance of her self-sacrifice?

So it might be that she would either find herself once again flouted, or
else married to a man she did not love.

Such a catastrophe should not happen, whatever the cost to him. He
would, blind as he was, steal away in the night and take himself out of
her life; this time for ever. Better the ingratitude of an unknown man,
the saving of whose life was due to her, than the long dull routine of a
spoiled life, which would otherwise be her unhappy lot.

When once this idea had taken root in his mind he had taken such steps as
had been open to him without endangering the secrecy of his motive.
Thanks to his subtle questioning of the Doctor, he now knew that his room
was close to the ground, so that he would easily drop from the window and
steal away with out immediate danger of any restraining accident. If he
could once get away he would be all right. There was a large sum to his
credit in each of two London banks. He would manage somehow to find his
way to London; even if he had to walk and beg his way.

He felt that now in the silence of the night the time had come. Quietly
he rose and felt his way to the door, now and again stumbling and
knocking against unknown obstacles in the manner of the recently blind.
After each such noise he paused and listened. He felt as if the very
walls had ears. When he reached the door he turned the key softly. Then
he breathed more freely. He felt that he was at last alone and free to
move without suspicion.

Then began a great and arduous search; one that was infinitely difficult
and exasperating; and full of pathos to the sympathetic man who watched
him in silence. Mr. Hilton could not understand his movements as he felt
his way about the room, opening drawers and armoires, now and again
stooping down and feeling along the floor. He did not betray his
presence, however, but moved noiselessly away as the other approached. It
was a hideously real game of blindman's-buff, wit