guessed."

"That is complicated," said Francesca, with a smile. "Perhaps the other
reason may be simpler."

"It is very simple, very simple indeed, though it will not seem natural
to you. You are the only very good woman I ever knew, who made me feel
that she was good instead of making me see it. Perhaps you think it
unnatural that I should be attracted by goodness at all. But I am not
very bad, as men go."

"No. I do not believe you are. And I am not so good as you think." She
sighed softly.

"You are much better than I once thought," answered Lord Redin. "Once
upon a time--well, I should only offend you, and I know better now.
Forgive me for thinking of it. I wish to tell you something else."

"If it is something which has been your secret, it is better not told,"
said Francesca, quietly. "One rarely makes a confidence that one does
not regret it."

"You are a wise woman." He looked at her thoughtfully. "And yet you must
be very young."

"No. But though I have had my own life apart, I have lived outwardly
very much in the world, although I am still young. Most of the secrets
which have been told me have been repeated to me by the people in whom
others had confided."

"All that is true," he answered. "Nevertheless--" He paused. "I am
desperate!" he exclaimed, with sudden energy. "I cannot bear this any
longer--I am alone, always, always. Sometimes I think I shall go mad!
You do not know what a life I lead. I have not even a vice to comfort
me!" He laughed low and savagely. "I tried to drink, but I am sick of
it--it does no good! A man who has not even a vice is a very lonely
man."

Francesca's clear eyes opened wide with a startled look, and gazed
towards his averted face, trying to catch his glance. She felt that she
was close to something very strong and dreadful which she could not
understand.

"Do not speak like that!" she said. "No one is lonely who believes in
God."

"God!" he exclaimed bitterly. "God has forgotten me, and the devil will
not have me!" He looked at her at last, and saw her face. "Do not be
shocked," he said, with a sorrowful smile. "If I were as bad as I seem
to you just now, I should have cut my throat twenty years ago."

"Hush! Hush!" Francesca did not know what to say.

His manner changed a little, and he spoke more calmly.

"I am not eloquent," he said, looking into her eyes. "You may not
understand. But I have suffered a great deal."

"Yes. I know that. I am very sorry fo