retort; every jot of her joy was joy to me,
and her triumph my delight.

"How did I dare to tell him?" she asked herself softly. "Ah, but how
have I contrived not to tell all the world? How wasn't it plain in my
face?"

"It was most profoundly hidden," I assured her. Indeed from me it had
been; but Barbara's wit had yet another answer.

"You were looking in another face," said she. Then, as the movement of
my hands protested, remorse seized on her, and catching my hand she
cried impulsively, "I'll never speak of it again, Simon."

Now I was not so much ashamed of the affair as to demand that utter
silence on it; in which point lies a difference between men and women.
To have wandered troubles our consciences little, when we have come to
the right path again; their pride stands so strong in constancy as
sometimes (I speak in trembling) even to beget an oblivion of its
falterings and make what could not have been as if it had not. But now
was not the moment for excuse, and I took my pardon with all gratitude
and with full allowance of my offence's enormity.

Then we determined that Carford must immediately be sought, and set out
for the house with intent to find him. But our progress was very slow,
and the moon rose in the skies before we stepped out on to the avenue
and came in sight of the house and the terrace. There was so much to
tell, so much that had to slough off its old seeming and take on new and
radiant apparel--things that she had understood and not I, that I had
caught and she missed, wherein both of us had gone astray most
lamentably and now stood aghast at our own sightlessness. Therefore
never were our feet fairly in movement towards the house but a
sudden--"Do you remember?" gave them pause again: then came shame that I
had forgotten, or indignation that Barbara should be thought to have
forgotten, and in both of these cases the need for expiation, and so
forth. The moon was high in heaven when we stepped into the avenue and
came in sight of the terrace.

On the instant, with a low cry of surprise and alarm, Barbara caught me
by the arm, while she pointed to the terrace. The sight might well turn
us even from our engrossing interchange of memories. There were four men
on the terrace, their figures standing out dense and black against the
old grey walls, which seemed white in the moonlight. Two stood impassive
and motionless, with hands at their sides; at their feet lay what seemed
bundles of clothe