ld be well for her; but would it be well for him? When the
first months of passion had passed by, would he not begin to think of
all that he had thrown away for the sake of a woman's love? Would not
the burst of shame and obloquy which would follow him to the remotest
corners of the earth wear away his affection, till at last, as Lady
Honoria said, he learned to curse and hate her. And if it did not--if
he still loved her through it all--as, being what he was, he well might
do--could she be the one to bring this ruin on him? Oh, it would have
been more kind to let him drown on that night of the storm, when fate
first brought them together to their undoing.

No, no; once and for all, once and for ever, she would _not_ do it.
Cruel as was her strait, heavy as was her burden, not one feather's
weight of it should he carry, if by any means in her poor power she
could hold it from his back. She would not even tell him of what had
happened--at any rate, not now. It would distress him; he might take
some desperate step; it was almost certain that he would do so. Her
answer must be very short.

She was quite close to Coed now, and the water lay calm as a pond. So
calm was it that she drew the sheet of paper and the envelope from her
pocket, and leaning forward, rested them on the arched covering of the
canoe, and pencilled those words which we have already read.

"No, dear Geoffrey. Things must take their course.--B."

Thus she wrote. Then she paddled to the shore. A fisherman standing on
the beach caught her canoe and pulled it up. Leaving it in his charge,
she went into the quaint little town, directed and posted her letter,
and bought some wool. It was an excuse for having been there should any
one ask questions. After that she returned to her canoe. The fisherman
was standing by it. She offered him sixpence for his trouble, but he
would not take it.

"No, miss," he said, "thanking you kindly--but we don't often get a peep
at such sweet looks. It's worth sixpence to see you, it is. But, miss,
if I may make so bold as to say so, it isn't safe for you to cruise
about in that craft, any ways not alone."

Beatrice thanked him and blushed a little. Vaguely it occurred to her
that she must have more than a common share of beauty, when a rough man
could be so impressed with it. That was what men loved women for, their
beauty, as Owen Davies loved and desired her for this same cause and
this only.

Perhaps it was the same wi