gave me what
I wanted--sympathy, understanding, or love! And how can she blame
me"--the thought stole unawares into his mind--"if I turn for sympathy
to one who offers it?"

Yes, Rosalind would sympathize, and there would be no harm in listening
to her gentle words. He had the pen in his hand, paper and ink before
him: a word would be enough, if he wished to stay her visit. But he
would not write it: if she liked to come, she might come--he would be
glad to see her. Besides, her letter wanted explanation: for what had
she to forgive?

He pushed the writing materials away from him, and went to the
fireplace, where a small fire was burning very dimly. The day was
cloudy, and the afternoon was drawing in. He crushed the coal with the
heel of his boot in order to make a flame leap up; then leaned his elbow
on the narrow mantelpiece and gazed down into the glowing embers.

The door opened and closed again behind him, but at first he did not
look up. He thought that the attendant had come to light the gas or
bring him some tea. But when he heard no further sound, he suddenly
stirred and looked up; and in the dim light he saw beside him the figure
of a woman, cloaked and veiled.

Was it Rosalind? No, it was too tall for Rosalind Romaine. Not
Lesley?--though it had a look of her! And then his heart gave a
tremendous leap (although no one would have suspected it, for his
massive form and bearded face remained as motionless and calm as ever),
for it dawned upon him that the visitor was none other than Lesley's
mother, his wife, Alice Brooke, who had quitted him in anger twelve
years before.

"I beg your pardon," he said, courteously. "I did not see--I had no idea
who it was. Will you not sit down?"

He handed her a chair, with a bow as formal as that of a complete
stranger. Perhaps the formality was inevitable. Lady Alice put her hand
on the back of the chair, and felt that she was trembling.

"I hope I am not intruding," she said, in a voice as formal as his own.

"Not at all. It was most kind of you to come. Pray sit down."

She seated herself in silence, and then put up her veil. He remained
standing, and for a moment or two the husband and wife looked each other
steadily in the face, with a sort of curiosity and with a sort of wonder
too. The years had not dealt unkindly with either of them. Lady Alice
had kept her slender grace of figure and her gentleness of expression,
but the traces of sorrow and anxiety were