to the happiness of
watching the woman whom, against his will, he loved with such
unreasoning and passionate fervor, Mr. Dunbar never knew; but a sudden
recollection of the face printed on the glass, the face, beautiful as
fabled Hylas--of the man for whose sake she was willing to die--stung
him like an adder's bite; and setting his teeth hard, he rapped upon
the door held ajar; then threw it open.

At sight of him, her arm, lifted to the sketch, fell; the crayon
slipped from her nerveless fingers, and a glow rich as the heart of
some red June rose stained her cheeks.

As he stepped toward her, she leaned against the wall, and swiftly drew
the baby's cradle between them. He understood, and for a moment
recoiled.

"You barricade yourself as though I were some loathsome monster! Are
you afraid of me?"

"What is there left to fear? Have you spared any exertion to accomplish
that which you believe would overwhelm me with sorrow?"

"You cannot forgive my rejection of the overtures for a compromise
wrung from you by extremity of dread, when I started to Dakota?"

"That rejection freed me from a self-imposed, galling promise; and
hence I forgive all, because of the failure of your journey."

"Suppose I have not failed?"

She caught her breath, and the color in her cheeks flickered.

"Had you succeeded, I should not have been allowed so long the
comparative mercy of suspense."

"Am I so wantonly cruel, think you, that I gloat over your sufferings
as a Modoc at sight of the string of scalps dangling at his pony's
neck?"

"When the spirit of revenge is unleashed, Tiberius becomes a law unto
himself."

He leaned forward, and his voice was freighted with tenderness that he
made no attempt to disguise.

"Once after that long swoon in the court-room, when I held your hand,
you looked at me without shrinking, and called me Tiberius. Again, when
for hours I sat beside your cot, watching the crisis of your first
terrible illness, you opened your eyes and held out your hand, saying:
'Have you come for me, Tiberius?' Why have you told me you were at the
mercy of Tiberius?"

Hitherto she had avoided looking at him, and kept her gaze upon the
sleeping child, but warned by the tone that made her heart throb, she
bravely lifted her eyes.

"When next you write to your betrothed, ask her to go to the Museo
Chiaramonti while in Rome, and standing before the crowned Tiberius,
she will fancy her future husband welcomes her. Y