which met her words made her task the harder; the
atmosphere of the room was eloquent of antagonism. With an effort she
continued: "I don't know what you all think of me--I haven't tried to
think--but I'm worse--oh! ever so much worse than you believe."

The others wondered what revelations were toward. Devitt's mind went
back to the night when Mavis had last stood in the drawing-room. Mavis
went on:

"When I was away my heart was filled with hate: I hated you all and
longed to be revenged."

Mavis's audience were uncomfortable; it was an axiom of their existence
to shy at any expression of emotion.

The Devitts longed for the appearance of the fat butler, who would
announce that dinner was served. But to-night his coming was delayed
till Mavis had spoken.

"Chance threw Harold in my way," she went on. "He loved me at once, and
I took advantage of his love, thinking to be revenged on you for all I
believed--yes, I must tell you everything--for all I believed you had
done against me."

Here Mrs Devitt lifted up her hands, as if filled with righteous anger
at this statement.

Mavis took no notice, but continued:

"That is why I married him. That was then. Now I am punished, as the
wicked always are, punished over and over again. Why did I do it? Why?
Why?"

Here a look of terror came into her eyes; these looked helplessly about
the room, as if nothing could save her from the torment that pursued
her.

"He is ill; very ill. His doctor told me. How long do you think he will
live?"

"Pritchett?" asked Devitt.

"Yes, when he came down to Swanage. What he told me only makes it
worse."

"Makes what worse?" asked Devitt, who was eager to end this painful
scene.

"My punishment. He thinks me good--everything I ought to be. I love
him! I love him! I love him! He's all goodness and love. He believes in
me as he believes in God. I love him! How long do you think he'll live?
I love him! I love him! I love him!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

A SURPRISE

Mavis spoke truly. She loved her husband, although with a different
love from that which she had known for Perigal. She had adored the
father of her child with her soul and with her body, but in her
affection for her husband there was no trace of physical passion, of
which she had no small share. This new-born love was, in truth, an
immense maternal devotion which seemed to satisfy an insistent longing
of her being.

Upon the day of their wedding, Mavis was