nued. It is not good to realise that you have
failed in the hour of trial or flinched before the mere possibility of
making sacrifices.

'I do despise myself--indeed I do. But I can't. Oh, Dickie, you wouldn't
ask me--would you?' wailed Maisie.

She looked up for a minute, and by chance it happened that Dick's eyes
fell on hers. The unshaven face was very white and set, and the lips
were trying to force themselves into a smile. But it was the worn-out
eyes that Maisie feared. Her Dick had gone blind and left in his place
some one that she could hardly recognise till he spoke.

'Who is asking you to do anything, Maisie? I told you how it would be.

What's the use of worrying? For pity's sake don't cry like that; it
isn't worth it.'

'You don't know how I hate myself. Oh, Dick, help me--help me!' The
passion of tears had grown beyond her control and was beginning to alarm
the man. He stumbled forward and put his arm round her, and her head
fell on his shoulder.

'Hush, dear, hush! Don't cry. You're quite right, and you've nothing to
reproach yourself with--you never had. You're only a little upset by the
journey, and I don't suppose you've had any breakfast. What a brute Torp
was to bring you over.'

'I wanted to come. I did indeed,' she protested.

'Very well. And now you've come and seen, and I'm--immensely grateful.

When you're better you shall go away and get something to eat. What sort
of a passage did you have coming over?'

Maisie was crying more subduedly, for the first time in her life glad
that she had something to lean against. Dick patted her on the shoulder
tenderly but clumsily, for he was not quite sure where her shoulder
might be.

She drew herself out of his arms at last and waited, trembling and most
unhappy. He had felt his way to the window to put the width of the room
between them, and to quiet a little the tumult in his heart.

'Are you better now?' he said.

'Yes, but--don't you hate me?'

'I hate you? My God! I?'

'Isn't--isn't there anything I could do for you, then? I'll stay here
in England to do it, if you like. Perhaps I could come and see you
sometimes.'

'I think not, dear. It would be kindest not to see me any more, please.
I don't want to seem rude, but--don't you think--perhaps you had almost
better go now.'

He was conscious that he could not bear himself as a man if the strain
continued much longer.

'I don't deserve anything else. I'll go, Dick. Oh, I'm so mise