then had come moments when Hugh, carried away by his
ardour, had once more played the lover as he alone knew how, with all
the warmth and abandon of those days when he had wooed her in Italy, and
Diane would forget her unhappiness and fears in the sure knowledge that
she was a passionately beloved woman.

But always she was subconsciously aware of a sense of strife--of
struggle, as though Hugh loved her in spite of himself, in defiance of
some inner mandate of conscience which accused him.

And now, fear mastered her. Her dream had been a reality. And this--this
sweeping away from what had been his room of every familiar little
personal possession--was the symbol of some new and terribly changed
relation between them.

Forcing herself to move composedly while the maid still watched her,
she walked slowly out of the room, but the instant the door had closed
behind her she flew downstairs to her husband's study and, not pausing
to comply with the unwritten law which forbade entrance there without
express permission, broke in upon him as he sat at his desk, busily
occupied with his morning mail.

"Diane!"

Hugh turned towards her with a cold light of astonished disapproval in
his eyes.

"You know I don't like to be interrupted----"

"I know, I know. But I _had_ to come. Something's happened. There's been
a mistake. . . . Hugh, they've taken everything out of your room. All
your things."

She stood beside him breathlessly awaiting his reply--her passionate
dark eyes fixed on his face, two patches of brilliant colour showing on
the high cheek-bones that bore witness to her Russian origin.

They made a curious contrast--husband and wife. She, a slender thing of
fire and flame, hands clenched, lips quivering--woman every inch of her;
he, immaculate and composed, his face coldly expressionless, yet with
a hint of something warmer, a suppressed glow, beneath the deliberately
chill glance of those curious light-grey eyes--the man and bigoted
fanatic fighting for supremacy within him.

"Hugh! Answer me! Don't sit staring at me like that!" Diane's voice held
a sharpened sound.

At last he spoke, very slowly and carefully.

"There has been no mistake, Diane. Everything that has been done has
been with my sanction--by my order. Our marriage has been a culpable
mistake. Catherine realised it from the beginning. I only realise
my full guilt now that I am punished. But whatever I can do in
atonement--reparation, that I