scover the fact.

There was a deep, vertical line between Mr. Lorimer's brows. "And what
may Piers Evesham be doing here?" he enquired.

"He comes often--to see Jeanie," murmured his wife deprecatingly.

He laughed unpleasantly. "A vast honour for Jeanie!"

Two tears fell from Mrs. Lorimer's eyes. She began to feel furtively for
her handkerchief.

"And Dr. Lennox Tudor,"--he pronounced the name with elaborate care,--"he
comes--often--for the same reason, I presume?"

"He--he came to see me yesterday," faltered Mrs. Lorimer.

"Indeed!" The word was as water dropped from an icicle.

She dabbed her eyes and bravely turned and faced him. "Stephen dear, I am
very sorry. I didn't want to vex you unnecessarily. I hoped against
hope--" She broke off, and knelt up before him, clasping his hand tightly
against her breast. "Stephen--dearest, you said--when our firstborn
came--that he was--God's gift."

"Well?" Again that one, uncompromising word. The vertical line deepened
between her husband's brows. His eyes looked coldly back at her.

Mrs. Lorimer caught her breath on a little sob. "Will not this little
one--be just as much so?" she whispered.

He began to draw his hand away from her. "My dear Adelaide, we will not
be foolishly sentimental. What must be, must. I am afraid I must ask you
to run away now as I have yet to put the finishing touches to my sermon.
Perhaps you will kindly request young Evesham on my behalf to make a
little less noise."

He deliberately put her from him, and prepared to rise. But Mrs. Lorimer
suddenly and very unexpectedly rose first. She stood before him, slightly
bending, her hands on his broad shoulders.

"Will you kiss me, Stephen?" she said.

He lifted a grim, reluctant face. She stooped, slipping her arms about
his neck. "My own dear husband!" she whispered.

He endured her embrace for a couple of seconds; then, "That will do,
Adelaide," he said with decision. "You must not let yourself get
emotional. Dear me! It is getting late. I am afraid I really must ask you
to leave me."

Her arms fell. She drew back, dispirited. "Forgive me,--oh, forgive me!"
she murmured miserably.

He turned back to his writing-table, still frowning. "I was not aware
that I had anything to forgive," he said. "But if you think so,--" he
shrugged his shoulders, beginning already to turn the pages of his
masterpiece--"my forgiveness is yours. I wonder if you would care to
divert your thoughts from what