oing it," she said. There was a long silence. Alan stood by the
fire-place, his head resting upon his hand. Finally he spoke in a low
uncertain tone--

"There is one point I must mention. I think there may be a difficulty in
getting the divorce. I believe she claims that I condoned her--her
faults. I may find insuperable obstacles in my way."

Lettice drew a quick breath, and rose suddenly to her feet.

"We have nothing to do with that just now, Alan. You must try."

And then they said no more.

But when the afternoon came and Alan was ready to depart--for when once
he had made up his mind that he must go, he thought it better not to
linger--he drew Lettice inside her little study again, and looked her
full in the face.

"Lettice, before I go, will you kiss me once?"

She did not hesitate. She lifted her face, calmly and seriously, and
kissed him on the mouth.

But she was not prepared for the grip in which he seized her, and the
passionate pressure of her lips which he returned. "Lettice, my dearest,
my own love," he said, holding her close to him as he spoke, "suppose I
fail! If the law will not set me free, what will you do?"

She was silent for a minute or two, and he saw that her face grew pale.

"Oh," she said at last, in a sighing voice, broken at last by a
despairing sob, "if man's law is so hard, Alan, surely then we may trust
ourselves to God's!"

"Promise me," he said, "that you will never give me up--that, whatever
happens, you will one day be mine!"

"Whatever happens," she answered, "I am yours, Alan, in life or
death--in time and for eternity."

And with this assurance he was fain to be content.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

SYDNEY PAYS HIS DEBTS.

The fight which Sydney Campion had had to wage with his creditors was
bitter enough up to the time of his marriage. Then there had been a lull
for a few months, during which it was confidently said and believed that
he was about to touch a large sum of money, and that all who had put
their trust in him would be rewarded.

Month after month went by, and there was no realization of the prospect.
Sydney touched no money but what he earned. He might, no doubt, have
touched some of his wife's money, even for the payment of his old debts,
if he had told her the distress that he was in. But it had never
occurred to him to be thus sincere with Nan. He had thought to figure
before her as one who was not dependent on her fortune, who could very
comfort