rtnight. But that shall be atoned for . . later. Give me your
blessing, _ma belle_!"

Half-seriously, half in joke, he knelt beside her chair. But the
entrance of the kitmutgar with a note brought him swiftly to his feet.

"Talk of an angel! It is herself," he exclaimed as he broke the seal.
"My demure little Puritan meets me half-way after all!"

He scanned the first page at a glance, then, with a sound between a
laugh and a curse, crumpled up the paper in his hand.

"_Mon Dieu_ . . a pretty bit of comedy!"

"What is it now, _mon cher_?" Quita asked anxiously, guessing his
answer.

"It is Malcolm; no less. He reaps the reward of constancy; like the
good boy in a Sunday-school book! And she . . _eh bien_, she is quite
certain I shall be delighted to hear of her great good fortune. Very
charming! Very correct!"

"And you, Michel . . _you_?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and tossed the note into the fender.

"_Comme ca_! It seems I am a negligible quantity. Possibly have been
all along. The notion does not comfort a man's natural vanity. But on
the whole . ." he paused; smiling at the concern in Quita's eyes, "on
the whole, _petite soeur_ . . . I am profoundly relieved! I should
have proposed . . yes; and enjoyed a few weeks of Elysium. But it is
certain I should never have delivered myself permanently into the hands
of a woman! After that, it u useless to ask for your blessing, _n'est
ce pas_?"

"Quite useless!"

But the hands stretched out to him belied her words; and as he knelt
beside her once more, she set them upon his shoulders and kissed his
forehead.

"This time I give you up for good, Michel!" she said, smiling. "At
least I have done my level best for you; so my conscience is clear.
But it is written that 'no man may redeem his brother'; and I might
have known that Providence was not likely to make an exception in
favour of a woman!"

"Is it perhaps a step towards redemption if, on your account, I give up
playing with the _feu sacre_ of the heart, and confine myself to the
only form of it that the gods appear to have granted me?"

"_Dieu vous garde_," she whispered, and kissed him again.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

"I have my lesson; understand
The worth of flesh and blood at last."
--Browning.

"Oh, Theo--it is too cruel. Too terrible! What on earth is one to
tell her?"

"Anything but the truth," Desmond answered decisively, his gaze
reverting to the telegram i