at that dreadful question, to the one woman
who was eternally sacred to him--to the woman from whose bosom he had
drawn the breath of life.

"Does the man live," he said, "who can think of his mother--and despise
women?"

That answer set the prisoned misery in her free. She gave him her
hand--she faintly thanked him. The merciful tears came to her at last.

Arnold rose, and turned away to the window in despair. "I mean well," he
said. "And yet I only distress her!"

She heard him, and straggled to compose herself "No," she answered, "you
comfort me. Don't mind my crying--I'm the better for it." She looked
round at him gratefully. "I won't distress you, Mr. Brinkworth. I ought
to thank you--and I do. Come back or I shall think you are angry with
me." Arnold went back to her. She gave him her hand once more. "One
doesn't understand people all at once," she said, simply. "I thought you
were like other men--I didn't know till to-day how kind you could be.
Did you walk here?" she added, suddenly, with an effort to change
the subject. "Are you tired? I have not been kindly received at this
place--but I'm sure I may offer you whatever the inn affords."

It was impossible not to feel for her--it was impossible not to be
interested in her. Arnold's honest longing to help her expressed itself
a little too openly when he spoke next. "All I want, Miss Silvester, is
to be of some service to you, if I can," he said. "Is there any thing
I can do to make your position here more comfortable? You will stay at
this place, won't you? Geoffrey wishes it."

She shuddered, and looked away. "Yes! yes!" she answered, hurriedly.

"You will hear from Geoffrey," Arnold went on, "to-morrow or next day. I
know he means to write."

"For Heaven's sake, don't speak of him any more!" she cried out. "How do
you think I can look you in the face--" Her cheeks flushed deep, and her
eyes rested on him with a momentary firmness. "Mind this! I am his wife,
if promises can make me his wife! He has pledged his word to me by all
that is sacred!" She checked herself impatiently. "What am I saying?
What interest can _you_ have in this miserable state of things? Don't
let us talk of it! I have something else to say to you. Let us go back
to my troubles here. Did you see the landlady when you came in?"

"No. I only saw the waiter."

"The landlady has made some absurd difficulty about letting me have
these rooms because I came here alone."

"She won't ma