ee that she
was deeply moved, for her lip quivered a little. He rose from the bench
and paced up and down the terrace, listening to the faint soughing of
the dark chestnut leaves and looking at the cool, silvery gleam of the
river between the tree-boles.

Malcolm was a man of intensely imaginative and sympathetic nature. His
mother had once told him that he had something of the woman in him. And
certainly no one was more capable of filling up the outlines of the
story he had just heard and giving it life and colouring.

"I admired her before," he said to himself, "but I shall look upon her
as a saint now. She has had her martyrdom, if ever woman had, and has
fought her fight nobly;" and then, with that clear insight that seemed
natural to him, he added, "She knows that he has come right, and this
is the secret of her serenity," which was indeed the truth, though not
the whole truth; for Dinah Templeton had indeed realised her Master's
words, that through much tribulation we must enter into the kingdom of
heaven.

When Mrs. Godfrey rejoined Malcolm her husband was with her. Malcolm
always declared that Colonel Godfrey was his typical and ideal
Englishman. He was a well-built, soldierly-looking man of unusually
fine presence. As he was over fifty, his golden-brown moustache was
slightly grizzled, and the hair had worn off his forehead; but he was
still strikingly handsome. He and his wife were alone. Both their sons
were in the Indian army, and their only daughter was married and lived
in Yorkshire.

"We are just an old Darby and Joan," Mrs. Godfrey would say; but though
she was only a year or two younger than her husband, she wore
remarkably well, and still looked a comparatively young woman.

Colonel Godfrey and Malcolm were excellent friends, and in a few
minutes they were strolling through the fields towards the river-bank,
talking on various topics of social and political interest, while Mrs.
Godfrey returned to the house to write letters and dress for dinner.

It was not until the following afternoon that Malcolm found an
opportunity of sounding Mrs. Godfrey on the subject of the Jacobis.

They were sitting in the loggia again, and the row of dark chestnut
trees looked almost black against the intense blue of the sky.

A faint breeze was just stirring the leaves, and every now and then a
sort of ripple of sunlight seemed to streak the sombre foliage with
gold. On the terrace there was a wealth of sunshine,