h other good-night. "You have not befriended an
ungrateful woman. The day may yet come when I shall prove it." Gratitude
and admiration struggled in him which should utter itself first, and
held him speechless.

She bent her head gently in token that she understood him. Then she went
on, and stood before Geoffrey.

"I am here," she said to him. "What do you wish me to do?"

A hideous smile parted his heavy lips. He offered her his arm.

"Mrs. Geoffrey Delamayn," he said. "Come home."

The picture of the lonely house, isolated amidst its high walls; the
ill-omened figure of the dumb woman with the stony eyes and the savage
ways--the whole scene, as Anne had pictured it to him but two days
since, rose vivid as reality before Sir Patrick's mind. "No!" he cried
out, carried away by the generous impulse of the moment. "It shall _not_
be!"

Geoffrey stood impenetrable--waiting with his offered arm. Pale and
resolute, she lifted her noble head--called back the courage which had
faltered for a moment--and took his arm. He led her to the door. "Don't
let Blanche fret about me," she said, simply, to Arnold as they went by.
They passed Sir Patrick next. Once more his sympathy for her set
every other consideration at defiance. He started up to bar the way to
Geoffrey. Geoffrey paused, and looked at Sir Patrick for the first time.

"The law tells her to go with her husband," he said. "The law forbids
you to part Man and Wife."

True. Absolutely, undeniably true. The law sanctioned the sacrifice of
her as unanswerably as it had sanctioned the sacrifice of her mother
before her. In the name of Morality, let him take her! In the interests
of Virtue, let her get out of it if she can!

Her husband opened the door. Mr. Moy laid his hand on Sir Patrick's arm.
Lady Lundie, Captain Newenden, the London lawyer, all left their places,
influenced, for once, by the same interest; feeling, for once, the same
suspense. Arnold followed them, supporting his wife. For one memorable
instant Anne looked back at them all. Then she and her husband crossed
the threshold. They descended the stairs together. The opening and
closing of the house door was heard. They were gone.

Done, in the name of Morality. Done, in the interests of Virtue. Done,
in an age of progress, and under the most perfect government on the face
of the earth.

FIFTEENTH SCENE.--HOLCHESTER HOUSE.

CHAPTER THE FORTY-SEVENTH.

THE LAST CHANCE.

"HIS lordsh