er to hear her voice--to be of my own deed separate from her
throughout Eternity--that were of all the Judgments that are Thine to
scourge with the most terrible that Thou couldst lay upon my soul!"

A sob tore him. He moaned out brokenly:

"Give me a sign, if Thou art indeed merciful! Show me that there is
relenting in Thee! Grant me the hope, at least, that my great renunciation
may open a gate by which, after cycles of expiatory suffering, I may at
last pass through to where she dwells in Thy Brightness. Give me to see
her face with a smile on it--to touch her hand--after all--after all! The
lips I have never kissed, may they not be mine, O God--mine one day in
Heaven? If Thou art Love, there should be love there."

She glided over the deep carpet, stretched out a timid hand, and touched
his shoulder. He lifted his great square head, and slowly looked round.
The black hair, mingled with white, clung damp to the broad forehead. His
eyes were bloodshot, strained, and haggard, and wild. Sorrow was charted
deep upon the haggard features. Amazement struck them into folly as he
started up, stammering out her name, and clutching for support at the
brass rail that was at the foot of the bed.

"Lynette! You.... It is you?..." He shook, staring at her with dilated
eyes.

"Owen, you are ill. You speak and look so strangely. It is me--really me!"
she said, trying to speak calmly through the tumult of her heart.

"I am not ill. How is it that you are here?"

He lifted a hand to his strained and smarting eyes and moved it to and fro
before them. He was staring at her still, but with pupils that were less
dilated, and the veins upon his broad forehead were no longer purple now.

"Have I talked nonsense? I had dozed, and you startled me coming upon
me.... Why have you?..." He strove to speak and look as usual. "Has
anything happened, that you have come back?"

She pressed her hands together, wrestling for collected thought and clear,
explicit utterance, though the room rocked about her, and the floor seemed
to rise and fall beneath her feet.

"Something happened. I have come back from Wales to tell you that I ... I
cannot live upon your friendship any longer! I--I must have more, or I
shall die!"

He knew all. She had met the man whose look and breath and touch had
revealed to her her own misery. Chained to her harsh yoke-fellow; denied
Love's bread and wine of life! He looked at her, and answered coldly:

"You shall no