s as you do now, I shall not care for anything else. Tell me
you were to blame, too, and save me some remnant of my self-respect."

"Blame!" he echoed contemptuously. "See, my darling, how I kiss away
your tears. Poor child, so storm-tossed, so troubled! Have we not
dealt enough with words, while all the time this was the only reality?
Can you talk of blame on either side, Felicity, when we love each other
as we do?" In that moment of happiness he could not bring himself to
tell her of the letter in his pocket that gave him permission to join
the expedition to Egypt. He had still a few days to spare, and though
he was resolved to go, he would not throw the shadow of separation over
their first perfect understanding. That very afternoon he had arranged
with Dr. Renshaw for his substitute, and had made his final plans. He
would have gone to her to-morrow with the news, but now he would wait
until to-morrow before he spoke.

Silence had fallen between them when they heard the sound of footsteps
ascending the stairs, buoyant and determined. They might be directed
to Cardington's room across the way, but the two listeners stood as if
frozen, waiting with strange foreboding for the issue. Then came a
loud knocking on the door.

They stood apart, and looked at each other with mute irresolution. The
knock was repeated, and before they could fortify themselves to meet
the crisis, the door opened and Emmet advanced boldly into the dim
light of the fire. Leigh stepped quickly between him and Felicity.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion, Mr. Emmet?" he asked quietly.

The bishop's daughter seemed to grow taller with scorn of the vulgar
outbreak and unseemly charges she believed to be inevitable, but her
husband raised his hand as if to ward off resentment, and Leigh saw in
a glance that he was no longer the man he had known. There was little
now of that bold, insistent personality which had once radiated a
compelling sense of power. His face seemed thinner, finer, almost
luminous with his purpose of renunciation. He looked at Leigh with
none of the fury of the outraged husband in his eyes, but rather with a
suggestion of sympathy and understanding.

"I 've been to the bishop's," he began abruptly. "I wanted to see him
and Felicity once more to take back all I said this morning, and to say
I would do as they wished. They were n't at home, and I guessed
somehow they might be here. Anyhow, even if they were