a moment, and left the room. He seemed to be gone an age, while
I sat there, trying to fight down my terror. The suspense was killing
me. Then he came back. He closed and locked the door. All at once I
heard a step outside, a knock. 'Hush! go in there,' he said. He opened
the door. I heard him speaking to some one. I waited, then you burst in
on me. You know the rest."

"Yes, yes."

"As for your brother, I've tried, oh, so hard, to be nice to him for
your sake. I liked him; I wanted to be to him as a sister, but never an
unfaithful thought has entered my head, never a wrong feeling sullied my
heart. I've been true to you. You told me once of a love that gives all
and asks for nothing; a love that would turn its back on friends and
kindred for the sake of its beloved. You said: 'His smile will be your
rapture, his frown your anguish. For him will you dare all, bear all. To
him will you cling in sorrow, suffering and poverty. Living, you would
follow him round the world; dying, you would desire but him.'--Well, I
think I love you like that."

"Oh, my dear, my dear!"

"I want to bring you happiness, but I only bring you trouble, sorrow.
Sometimes, for your sake, I wish we had never met."

She turned to Garry.

"As for you, you've done me a great wrong. I can never forget it. Will
you go now, and leave us in peace?"

His head was bent, so that I could not see his face.

"Can you not forgive?" he groaned.

She shook her head sadly. "No, I am afraid I can never forgive."

"Can I do nothing to atone?"

"No, I'm afraid your punishment must be--that you can do nothing."

He said never a word. She turned to me:

"Come, my husband, we will go."

I was opening the door to leave him forever. Suddenly I heard a step
coming up the stairs, a heavy, hurried tread. I looked down a moment,
then I pushed her back into the room.

"Be prepared, Berna," I said quietly; "here comes Locasto."

CHAPTER XXIII

There we waited, Garry and I, and between us Berna. We heard that heavy
tread come up, up the creaking stairway, stumble a moment, then pause on
the landing. There was something ominous, something pregnant in that
pause. The steps halted, wavered a little, then, inflexible as doom, on
they came towards us. The next instant the door was thrown open, and
Locasto stood in the entrance.

Even in that brief moment I was struck by the change in him. He seemed
to have aged by twenty years. He was gaunt and lank as a