misinterpretations trouble you! You are as far above them, Berenice,
as that little star is from us."

"I do not pretend to be anything but a woman," she said, bending her
head, "and to stand alone always is very hard."

"It is very hard for a man! It must be very much harder for a woman.
But, Berenice, you would not call yourself absolutely friendless!"

She raised her head for a moment. Her dark eyes were wonderfully soft.

"Who is there that cares?" she murmured.

He touched the tips of her fingers. Her soft, warm hand yielded itself
readily, and slid into his.

"Do I count for no one?" he whispered.

There was a silence in the little room. The yellow glare had faded
from the sky, and a night wind was blowing softly in. A clock in the
distance struck one. Together they sat and gazed out upon the
darkness. Looking more than once into her pale face, Matravers
realized again that wonderful change. His own emotions were curiously
disturbed. He, himself, so remarkable through all his life for a
changeless serenity of purpose, and a fixed masterly control over his
whole environment, felt himself suddenly like a rudderless ship at
the mercy of a great unknown sea. A sense of drifting was upon him.
They were both drifting. Surely this little room, with its dim light
and shadows and its faint odour of roses, had become a hotbed of
tragedy. He had imagined that death itself was something like this,--a
dissolution of all fixed purposes. And with it all, this remnant of
life, if it were but a remnant, seemed suddenly to be flowing through
his veins with all the rich, surpassing sweetness of some exquisite
symphony!

"You count for a great deal," she said. "If you had not come to me, I
think that I must have died.... If I were to lose you ... I think that
I should die."

She threw herself back in her chair with a gesture of complete
abandonment. Her arms hung loosely down over its sides. The moonlight,
which had been gradually gathering strength, shone softly upon her
pale face and on the soft, lustrous pearls at her throat. Her dark,
wet eyes seemed touched with smouldering fire. She looked at him. He
sprang to his feet and walked restlessly up and down the room. His
forehead was hot and dry, and his hands were trembling.

"There is not any reason," he said, halting suddenly in front of her,
"why we should lose one another. I was coming to-morrow morning to
make a proposition to you. If you accept it, we shall be for