hardly let
her speak.

"If only what?" he said, hoarsely.

She raised her eyes.

"If only, _mon ami_"--she disengaged one hand and laid it gently on his
shoulder--"you will give me your trust, and"--her voice
dropped--"your love!"

They gazed at each other. Between them, around them hovered thoughts of
the past--of Warkworth, of the gray Channel waves, of the spiritual
relation which had grown up between them in Switzerland, mingled with
the consciousness of this new, incalculable present, and of the growth
and change in themselves.

"You'd give it all up?" said Delafield, gently, still holding her at
arm's-length.

"Yes," she nodded to him, with a smile.

"For me? For my sake?"

She smiled again. He drew a long breath, and turning to the table
behind him, took up a letter which was lying there.

"I want you to read that," he said, holding it out to her.

She drew back, with a little, involuntary frown.

He understood.

"Dearest," he cried, pressing her hand passionately, "I have been in the
grip of all the powers of death! Read it--be good to me!"

Standing beside him, with his arm round her, she read the melancholy
Duke's last words:

"My Dear Jacob,--I leave you a heavy task, which I know well
is, in your eyes, a mere burden. But, for my sake, accept it.
The man who runs away has small right to counsel courage. But
you know what my struggle has been. You'll judge me
mercifully, if no one else does. There is in you, too, the
little, bitter drop that spoils us all; but you won't be
alone. You have your wife, and you love her. Take my place
here, care for our people, speak of us sometimes to your
children, and pray for us. I bless you, dear fellow. The only
moments of comfort I have ever known this last year have come
from you. I would live on if I could, but I must--_must_ have
sleep."

Julie dropped the paper. She turned to look at her husband.

"Since I read that," he said, in a low voice, "I have been sitting here
alone--or, rather, it is my belief that I have not been alone. But"--he
hesitated--"it is very difficult for me to speak of that--even to you.
At any rate, I have felt the touch of discipline, of command. My poor
cousin deserted. I, it seems"--he drew a long and painful breath--"must
keep to the ranks."

"Let us discuss it," said Julie; and sitting down, hand in hand, they
talked quietly and gravely.

Suddenly, Delafield