n.
Bertrand's hand stroked hers very tenderly, but his eyes were raised to
the man who stood like a statue by his side.

He spoke after a moment very softly, almost as if to himself.
"Neither will he forget," he said, "that our love was a summer
idyll that came to us unawares in the days when we were young, and
that though the idyll will come to an end, our love is a gift
immortal--imperishable--indestructible--a flame that burns upwards and
always upwards--reaching the Divine. And because he remembers this,
he will understand, and think no evil. Christine," he turned to her again
very persuasively, "you love him. You have need of him. I know it well.
You are sad. You are lonely. Your heart cries out for him. Little
Christine, will you not listen to it? Will you not go back to him?"

The man's whole soul was in the words. They quivered with the intensity
of his appeal. Yet they went into silence. Chris was turned away from
him. Only by the convulsive holding of her hand did he know that they had
reached her heart.

The silence lengthened, became oppressive, became a burden too heavy to
be borne.

"Christine!" He was becoming exhausted. His voice was no more than a
whisper, but it throbbed with earnest entreaty.

Yet Chris remained silent still, for she could not speak in answer.

Several seconds passed. It seemed that the appeal would go unanswered.
But at length the man who stood on Bertrand's other side made a quiet
movement, bending down a little.

"You need not distress yourself, Bertrand," he said, very steadily, and
as he spoke his hand was on the Frenchman's shoulder. "Chris will never
leave me again."

"Ah!" Eagerly Bertrand looked up at him. He had begun to gasp again,
and his words were hurried and difficult of utterance. "And you,
monsieur--you will not--leave her?"

Mordaunt made no verbal answer, but their eyes must have met in the
dimness and some message have passed between them, for there was a tremor
of sheer relief in his voice when Bertrand spoke again.

"Oh, my friend!" he said. "My dear friend!" And, yielding to the hand
that gently pressed him back, he reclined upon his pillows and became
passive.

Mordaunt remained beside him for several seconds longer, but he did not
speak again. When he straightened himself at length, he glanced round for
Max, and motioned him away.

They went together into the adjoining room and softly closed the door.

And so Chris and her _preux chevalier_ we