softness into a man's heart, but those fretful tears
which chafe him beyond endurance.

"Sybilla, come to me!" The words were a fond husband's words: the tone
was that of a master who took on himself his prerogative. Never had
Angus spoken so before, and the wilful spirit of his wife rebelled.

"I cannot come. I dare not even look at you. You are so angry."

His only answer was the reiterated command, "Sybilla, come!" She crept
from the far end of the room, where she was sobbing in a fear-stricken,
childish way, and stood before him. For the first time she recognised
her husband, whom she must "obey." Now, with all the power of his roused
nature, he was teaching her the meaning of the word. "Sybilla," he said,
looking sternly in her face, "tell me why, all these years, you have put
upon me this cheat--this lie!"

"Cheat!--lie! Oh, Angus! What cruel, wicked words!"

"I am sorry I used them, then. I will choose a lighter term--deceit. Why
did you so _deceive_ your husband?"

"I did not mean it," sobbed the young wife. "And this is very unkind of
you, Angus! As if Heaven had not punished me enough in giving me that
miserable child!"

"Silence! I am not speaking of the child, but of you; my wife, in whom
I trusted; who for five long years has wilfully deceived me. Why did you
so?"

"Because I was afraid--ashamed. But those feelings are past now," said
Sybilla, resolutely. "If Heaven made me mother, it made you father to
this unhappy child. You have no right to reproach me."

"God forbid! No, it is not the misfortune--it is the falsehood which
stings me."

And his grave, mournful tone, rose into one of bitter anger. He paced
the room, tossed by a passion such as his wife had never before seen.

"Sybilla!" he suddenly cried, pausing before her; "you do not know what
you have done. You little think what my love has been, nor against how
much it has struggled these five years. I have been true to you--ay, to
the depth of my heart And you to me have been--not wholly true."

Here he was answered by a burst of violent hysterical weeping. He longed
to call for feminine assistance to this truly feminine ebullition, which
he did not understand. But his pride forbade. So he tried to soothe
his wife a little with softer words, though even these seemed somewhat
foreign to his lips, after so many long-parted years.

"I did not mean to pain you thus deeply, Sybilla. I do not say that you
have ceased to love me!"

Would th