with a satirical edge in his tone, 'I shall discharge my errand.'

Still she waited.

Her silence seemed to irritate him. 'I have promised,' he said, with a
formality that smacked of insolence, 'to offer you what I believe is
called "amends."'

The quick change in the brooding look should have warned him.

'You have come to realize, then--after all these years--that you owed me
something?'

He checked himself on the brink of protest. 'I am not here to deny it.'

'Pay, then,' she said fiercely--'pay.'

A moment's dread flickered in his eye and then was gone. 'I have said
that, if you exact it, I will.'

'Ah! If I insist, you'll "make it all good"! Then, don't you know, you
must pay me in kind?'

He looked down upon her--a long, long way. 'What do you mean?'

'Give me back what you took from me--my old faith,' she said, with
shaking voice. 'Give me that.'

'Oh, if you mean to make phrases----' He half turned away, but the swift
words overtook him.

'Or, give me back mere kindness--or even tolerance! Oh, I don't mean
_your_ tolerance.' She was on her feet to meet his eyes as he faced her
again. 'Give me back the power to think fairly of my brothers--not as
mockers--thieves.'

'I have not mocked you. And I have asked you----'

'Something you knew I should refuse. Or'--her eyes blazed--'or did you
dare to be afraid I wouldn't?'

'Oh, I suppose'--he buttressed his good faith with bitterness--'I
suppose if we set our teeth we could----'

'I couldn't--not even if I set my teeth. And you wouldn't dream of
asking me if you thought there was the smallest chance.'

Ever so faintly he raised his heavy shoulders. 'I can do no more than
make you an offer of such reparation as is in my power. If you don't
accept it----' He turned away with an air of '_that's_ done.'

But her emotion had swept her out of her course. She found herself at
his side.

'Accept it? No! Go away and live in debt. Pay and pay and pay--and find
yourself still in debt--for a thing you'll never be able to give me
back. And when you come to die'--her voice fell--'say to yourself, "I
paid all my creditors but one."'

He stopped on his way to the door and faced her again. 'I'm rather
tired, you know, of this talk of debt. If I hear that you persist in it,
I shall have to----' Again he checked himself.

'What?'

'No. I'll keep to my resolution.'

He had nearly reached the threshold. She saw what she had lost by her
momentary lack of that