ho
is very dear to me?"

"Then you knew all the time! I almost thought so--often."

"Not all the time," he corrected, "though for what seemed a very long
time, while I waited for the bolt to fall on your father's unsuspecting
head. Perhaps, Felicity, you will accept it as a proof of my devotion
to you that I did not consider it my duty to enlighten your father. If
I can be of any assistance to you even now--but I am an outsider. I
merely wish to assure you of my unswerving--friendship."

"Don't make me cry," she protested, with a shaken little laugh. She
bit her lip and winked back the starting tears. "Father knows now--and
you know--and I am going to tell Mr. Leigh."

"Well, well," he answered, "I say no more." His eyes searched her face
earnestly, and he began to shake her hands, which he had retained in
his own from the time she put them there. "You must redeem your
promise to come and see me again, I hope under happier circumstances."
He flung open the door with suspicious haste, and bowed her out in his
ceremonious way.

She found herself facing the same beckoning firelight, with the same
reassuring silence about her. In addition she felt a new comfort and
an unexpected permission from the recent interview. Without further
hesitation, she stepped across the threshold and quietly closed the
door behind her.

She was still somewhat shaken by the emotions she had just experienced,
but this change of scene brought different sensations and dried her
tears. Her first feeling was one of intense relief. Here she was,
whether wisely or not she could not tell, but she was glad she had
come. She advanced to the centre of the room, and gazed about her at
the objects that were his. The first thing that always struck her in
any room was its pictures, and here she saw a number of famous
astronomers and mathematicians, stiffly arranged in chronological
order. There were no Venetian scenes or cathedrals, but above the
fireplace she saw an etching of the library of his _alma mater_,
surmounted by his college flag.

What a contrast to the room she called her own! The very atmosphere
was different, for mingled with the odour of burning logs she detected
a suggestion of tobacco smoke, so faint that only a woman would have
perceived it. The simplicity of the place, the absence of ornate
decoration, was like him, she reflected. Artistic herself to an
exceptional degree, she had never cared for men who possessed