ed toward the
folding-doors. Mr. Moy stopped her.

"I advise your ladyship to be patient. Interference is useless there."

"Am I not to interfere, Sir, in my own house?"

"Unless I am entirely mistaken, madam, the end of the proceedings
in your house is at hand. You will damage your own interests by
interfering. Let us know what we are about at last. Let the end come."

Lady Lundie yielded, and returned to her place. They all waited in
silence for the opening of the doors.

Sir Patrick Lundie and Anne Silvester were alone in the room.

He took from the breast-pocket of his coat the sheet of note-paper which
contained Anne's letter, and Geoffrey's reply. His hand trembled as he
held it; his voice faltered as he spoke.

"I have done all that can be done," he said. "I have left nothing
untried, to prevent the necessity of producing this."

"I feel your kindness gratefully, Sir Patrick. You must produce it now."

The woman's calmness presented a strange and touching contrast to
the man's emotion. There was no shrinking in her face, there was no
unsteadiness in her voice as she answered him. He took her hand. Twice
he attempted to speak; and twice his own agitation overpowered him. He
offered the letter to her in silence.

In silence, on her side, she put the letter away from her, wondering
what he meant.

"Take it back," he said. "I can't produce it! I daren't produce it!
After what my own eyes have seen, after what my own ears have heard,
in the next room--as God is my witness, I daren't ask you to declare
yourself Geoffrey Delamayn's wife!"

She answered him in one word.

"Blanche!"

He shook his head impatiently. "Not even in Blanche's interests! Not
even for Blanche's sake! If there is any risk, it is a risk I am ready
to run. I hold to my own opinion. I believe my own view to be right. Let
it come to an appeal to the law! I will fight the case, and win it."

"Are you _sure_ of winning it, Sir Patrick?"

Instead of replying, he pressed the letter on her. "Destroy it," he
whispered. "And rely on my silence."

She took the letter from him.

"Destroy it," he repeated. "They may open the doors. They may come in at
any moment, and see it in your hand."

"I have something to ask you, Sir Patrick, before I destroy it. Blanche
refuses to go back to her husband, unless she returns with the certain
assurance of being really his wife. If I produce this letter, she may
go back to him to-day. If I declare