closed, Harold was the first to speak.

"Mother, if I may call you that! father! all of you! I want you to hear
what I have to say," he began, in his deep, soothing voice. "You know
what my accident has made me; you know how I can never be other than I
am. For all that, this winsome, wonderful girl, out of the pity and
goodness of her loving heart, has been moved to throw in her lot with
mine--even now I can hardly realise my immense good fortune" (here
Mavis dropped her eyes), "but there it is, and if I did what was right,
I should thank God for her every moment of my life. Now you know what
she is to me; how with her youth and glorious looks she has blessed my
life, I hope that you, all of you, will take her to your hearts."

A silence that could almost be heard succeeded his words; but Harold
did not notice this; he had eyes only for his wife.

Tea was brought in, when, to relieve the tension, Victoria went over to
Mavis and sat by her side; but to her remarks Harold's wife replied in
monosyllables; she had only eyes for her husband. The Devitts could
make nothing of her; her behaviour was so utterly alien to the scarcely
suppressed triumph which they had expected. But just now they did not
give very much attention to her; they were chiefly concerned for
Harold, whose manner betrayed an extra-ordinary elation quite foreign
to the depression which had troubled him before his departure for
Swanage. Now a joyous gladness possessed him; from the frequent tender
glances he cast in his wife's direction, there was little doubt of its
cause. Harold's love for his wife commenced by much impressing his
family, but ended by frightening them; they feared the effect on his
mind when he discovered, as he undoubtedly must, when his wife had
thrown off the mask, that he had wedded a heartless adventuress, who
had married him for his money. At the same time, the Devitts were
forced to admit that Mavis's conduct was unlike that of the scheming
woman of their fancies; they wondered at the reason of her humility,
but did not learn the cause till the family, other than Harold, were
assembled upstairs in the drawing-room waiting for dinner to be
announced. When Mavis had come into the room, the others had been
struck by the contrast between the blackness of her frock and the milky
whiteness of her skin; they were little prepared for what was to follow.

"Now we are alone, I have something to say to you," she began. The
frigid silence