et him, and thank your good
Angel you're married to an honourable man!'"

Saxham's eyes were on the carpet. He did not raise them or move a muscle
of his face.

"She told me to forget him. It is easier to forgive him; there are deceits
that smirch the soul of the deceived no less than the deceiver. He lied to
the Mother--that I cannot pardon! Perhaps some day--but I do not know.
Lady Hannah called you honourable.... I needed no one to tell me what you
are and have always been! You hide the things that other men boast of....
You are loyal even to those you scorn. You kept his secret. I have
reproached you to-night for keeping it, even while I honoured you in my
heart!"

"Do not honour me," said Saxham harshly, "for behaving with common
decency! Can a man tell tales on another who is dead? To commit murder
would be a crime less cowardly. I do myself mere justice when I say that I
am incapable of an act so vile! Nor would I blacken a living man to make
myself show whiter in any man's--or woman's eyes!"

She was no longer pale. A lovely colour flushed her, and her eyes were
wistful and very kind. Her draperies rustled as she moved towards him.
"Owen ..." she said, and her white hands were held out to him, and her
sweet mouth quivered, and her voice was a sigh, "I am alive at last to
your infinite generosity. I beg you to forgive me for being blind before!"

"Generosity," said Saxham, "does not enter into the question. My silence
has no merits whatever. What good could I have gained by telling you?" He
lifted his eyes, and met hers full, dropping the words coldly one by one.
"The advantage one has ceased to desire can hardly be called gain, in any
sense of the word. And--I have left off crying for the moon. Even were you
willing to give it me, I have ceased to wish for your love!"

She looked at him with piteous, incredulous wistfulness, as he told the
hardy lie. His mask of a face revealed nothing, but he could not disguise
the rage of hunger for her that ravened in his famished eyes. They were
upon her lips, her throat, the lovely curves of her young bosom even as he
spoke; she felt them as the kisses of a fierce, possessive mouth, and
glowed with sudden shame, and something more. He saw her beauty change
from the pale rose to the fire-hearted crimson, tore away his eyes, and
mastered himself. He stepped back, and the still out-stretched, quivering
hands dropped nervelessly at her sides.

"You have asked me to pardo