rnoon, and she knew now why Jethro's face had worn that
look of peace. He had made his supreme sacrifice--for her. No, he had
told her nothing, and she might never have known. She sat thinking of
the magnitude of this thing Jethro had done, and she ceased to speak,
and the tears coursed down her cheeks unheeded.

Isaac Worthington had a habit of clutching things when he was in a rage,
and now he clutched the arms of the chair. He had grown white. He was
furious with her, furious with himself for having spoken that which
might be construed into a confession. He had not finished writing
the letters before he had stood self-justified, and he had been
self-justified ever since. Where now were these arguments so wonderfully
plausible? Where were the refutations which he had made ready in case of
a barely possible need? He had gone into the Pelican House intending to
tell Jethro of his determination to agree to the marriage. That was one.
He had done so--that was another--and he had written the letters that
Jethro might be convinced of his good will. There were still more,
involving Jethro's character for veracity and other things. Summoning
these, he waited for Cynthia to have done speaking, but when she had
finished--he said nothing. He looked a her, and saw the tears on her
face, and he saw that she had completely forgotten his presence.

For the life of him, Isaac Worthington could not utter a word. He was a
man, as we know, who did not talk idly, and he knew that Cynthia would
not hear what he said; and arguments and denunciations lose their effect
when repeated. Again, he knew that she would not believe him. Never in
his life had Isaac Worthington been so ignored, so put to shame, as by
this school-teacher of Brampton. Before, self-esteem and sophistry
had always carried him off between them; sometimes, in truth, with a
wound--the wound had always healed. But he had a feeling, to-night, that
this woman had glanced into his soul, and had turned away from it. As he
looked at her the texture of his anger changed; he forgot for the first
time that which he had been pleased to think of as her position in life,
and he feared her. He had matched his spirit against hers.

Before long the situation became intolerable to him, for Cynthia still
sat silent. She was thinking of how she had blamed Jethro for going back
to that life, even though his love for her had made him do it. But Isaac
Worthington did not know of what she was t