ot about his cursed 'cello, rather
than about his child and yours.

"If so, treat him with the silent contempt he deserves, and come at once
to the man who won you first and to whom you have always belonged; come,
where tenderest consideration and the worship of a lifetime await you.

"Yours till death--- and after,

"AUBREY TREHERNE."

CHAPTER IX

THE PINNACLE OF THE TEMPLE

Aubrey's letter fell upon Helen as a crushing, stunning blow.

At first her womanhood reeled beneath it.

"What have I been--what have I done," she cried, "that a man dares to
write thus to me?"

Then her wifehood rose up in arms as she thought of Ronnie's gay, boyish
trust in her; their happy life together; his joyous love and laughter.

She clenched her hands.

"I could _kill_ Aubrey Treherne!" she said.

Then her motherhood arose; and bowing her proud head, she burst into a
passion of tears.

At length she stood up and walked over to the window.

"It will be bad for my little son if I weep," she said, and smiled
through her tears.

The trees were leafless, the garden beds empty. The park looked sodden,
dank and cheerless. Summer was long dead and over, yet frosts had not
begun, bringing suggestions of mistletoe and holly.

But the mists were lifting, fading in white wreaths from off the grass;
and, at that moment, the wintry sun, bursting through the November
clouds, shone on the diamond panes, illumining the cross and the motto
beneath it.

"_In hoc vince!_" murmured Helen. "As I told my own dear boy, the path
of clear shining is the way to victory. _In hoc signo vinces!_ I will
take this gleam of sunlight as a token of triumph. By the help of God, I
will write such an answer to Aubrey as shall lead him to overcome his
evil desires, and bring his dark soul out into the light of repentance
and confession."

The same post had brought her a short letter from Ronnie, written
immediately on his arrival at Leipzig, evidently before receiving hers.
It was a disappointment to have nothing more. As Aubrey had got a letter
through after hearing the news, Ronnie might have done the same.

But perhaps, face to face with her wonderful tidings, words had
altogether failed him. He feared to spoil all he would so soon be able
to say, by attempting to write.

To-morrow--the day which should bring him to her--would soon be here.

Meanwhile her reply to Aubrey must be posted to-day, and his letter