ill.

"Won't you have a cup of tea?" asked Charmian. "Cornelia and I had some
last night, and----"

"No, thank you," said Ludlow.

"Do let me ring for some coffee, then?"

"No, I have just breakfasted--that is, I have breakfasted----"

"Why, were _you_ up early, too?" said Charmian, with what seemed to
Ludlow a supernatural shrewdness. "It's perfectly telepathic! The
Psychical Research ought to have it. It would be such fun if we could
get together and compare our reasons for waking so early. But Cornelia
and I didn't know just when we did wake, and I suppose the Psychical
Research wouldn't care for it without. She seems to be writing a pretty
long note, or a pretty hard one!" Ludlow lifted his downcast eyes, and
gave her a look that was ghastly. "Did you look at your watch?" she
asked.

"Look at my watch?" he returned in a daze.

"When you woke, that is."

"Oh!" he groaned.

"Because----"

Charmian suddenly stopped and ran to the door, which Cornelia opened
before she could reach it.

Cornelia gave her a letter. "See if this will do," she said
spiritlessly, and Charmian caught it from her hand.

"Yes, yes, I'll read it," she said, as she slipped out of the door and
shut Cornelia in.

Cornelia saw Ludlow, and made an instinctive movement of flight.

"For pity's sake, don't go!" he implored.

"I didn't know you were here," she said, the same dejection in her
tone.

"No, they told me you were here; but let me stay long enough to tell
you---- That abominable letter--you ought never to have known that it
existed. I don't expect you to forgive me; I don't ask you; but I am so
ashamed; and I would do anything if I could recall--undo--Cornelia!
_Isn't_ there any way of atoning for it? Come! I don't believe a word
of that scoundrel's. I don't know what his motive was, and I don't
care. Let it all be as if nothing of the kind had ever happened.
Dearest, don't speak of it, and I never will!"

Cornelia was tempted. She could see how he had wrought himself up to
this pitch, and she believed that he would keep his word; we believe
such miracles of those we love, before life has taught us that love
cannot make nature err against itself. In his absence the duty she had
to do was hard; in his presence it seemed impossible, now when he asked
her not to do it. She had not expected ever to see him again, or to be
tried in this way. She had just written it all to him, but she must
speak it now. She had been weak, an