ity came into Elisabeth's face.

"No," she answered simply. "No, he never knew." Then the tide of bitter
recollection surged over her once more, and she continued passionately:
"Oh yes, I've been punished! Day and night, day and night since the
war began, I've lived in terror that the fear--his father's fear--might
suddenly grip Tim out there in Flanders. I kept him out of the
Army--because I was afraid. And then the war came, and he had to go.
Thank God--oh, thank God!--he never failed! . . . I suppose I am a bad
woman--I don't know . . . I fought for my own love and happiness first,
and afterwards for my son's. But, at least, I'm not bad enough to let
Maurice go on bearing . . . what he has borne . . . now that he has
saved Tim's life. He has given me the only thing . . . left to me . .
. of value in the whole world. In return, I can give him the one thing
that matters to him--his good name. Henceforth Maurice is a free man."

"_What_ are you saying?"

The sharp, staccato question cut across Elisabeth's quiet, concentrated
speech like a rapier thrust, snapping the strained attention of her
listeners, who turned, with one accord, to see Kennedy himself standing
at the threshold of the room, his eyes fastened on Elisabeth's face.

She met his glance composedly; on her lips a queer little smile which
held an indefinable pathos and appeal.

"I am telling them the truth--at last, Maurice," she said calmly. "I
have told them the true story of the court-martial."

"You--you have told them _that_?" he stammered. He was very pale. The
sudden realization of all that her words implied seemed to overwhelm
him.

"Yes." She rose and moved quietly to the door, then face to face with
Kennedy, she halted. Her eyes rested levelly on his; in her bearing
there was something aloofly proud--an undiminished stateliness, almost
regal in its calm inviolability. "They know--now--all that I took from
you. I shall not ask your forgiveness, Maurice . . . I don't expect it.
I sinned for my husband and my son--that is my only justification. I
would do the same again."

Instinctively Maurice stood aside as she swept past him, her head
unbowed, splendid even in her moment of surrender--almost, it seemed,
unbeaten to the last.

For a moment there was a silence--palpitant, packed with conflicting
emotion.

Then, with a little choking sob, Sara ran across the room to Maurice
and caught his hands in hers, smiling whilst the tears streamed dow