nd your God. You have been false to love and honour.
You have been false to yourself. And now Almighty God of His courtesy
gives you one more opportunity--an opportunity to be true to your
master. I say nothing of him. God is his judge. You know what that
verdict will be. And yet I bid you be true to him. He has a thousand
claims on you. You have served him, though it be but Satan's service;
yet it is the highest that you know--God help you! He is called
friendless now. Shall that be wholly true of him? You will be called a
traitor presently--shall that be wholly true of you? Or shall there be
one tiny point in which you are not false and treacherous as you have
been in all other points?"

She stopped again, looking him fiercely in the eyes.

* * * * *

From the street outside there came the sound of footsteps; the ring of
steel on stone. Ralph heard it, and his eyes rolled round to the window;
but he did not move.

Beatrice was almost touching him now. He felt the fragrance that hung
about her envelop him for a moment. Then he felt a touch on the papers;
and his fingers closed more tightly.

The steps outside grew louder and ceased; and the house suddenly
reverberated with a thunder of knocking.

Beatrice sprang back.

"Nay, you shall give me them," she said; and stood waiting with
outstretched hand.

Ralph lifted the papers slowly, stared at them, and at her.

Then he held them out.

* * * * *

In a moment she had snatched them; and was on her knees by the hearth.
Ralph watched her, and listened to the steps coming up the stairs. The
papers were alight now. The girl dashed her fingers among them,
grinding, tearing, separating the heavy pages.

They were almost gone by now; the thick smoke poured up the chimney; and
still Beatrice tore and dashed the ashes about.

There was a knocking at the door; and the handle turned. The girl rose
from her knees and smiled at Ralph as the door opened, and the
pursuivants stood there in the opening.

CHAPTER VIII

TO CHARING

Chris had something very like remorse after Ralph had left Overfield,
and no words of explanation or regret had been spoken on either side. He
recognised that he had not been blameless at the beginning of their
estrangement--if, indeed, there ever had been a beginning--for their
inflamed relations had existed to some extent back into boyhood as far
as he could remember; b