one or two. "It is just possible
there may be some people who will not believe that he was alone in
this matter."

Lord Grayleigh was the last to speak.

"If I were you, gentlemen," he said, moodily, "I would leave Ogilvie
to his God."

CHAPTER XXII.

"Philip!" said Mrs. Ogilvie, as he re-entered pretty Silverbel about
four o'clock that afternoon, "I have just had an extraordinary
telegram from our lawyer, Mr. Acland."

Ogilvie looked full at her but did not speak.

"How strangely tired and worn you look," she replied; "what can be the
matter with you? Sometimes, when I think of you and the extraordinary
way in which you are acting, I come to the conclusion that your brain
cannot be right."

"You are wrong there, Mildred. There was a time when not only my brain
but all my moral qualities were affected, but I believe these things
are put right at last."

He gave a hollow laugh.

"I am enjoying, for the first time for many months, the applause of an
approving conscience," he continued; "that is something to live for."

"Have you done anything rash, Philip?"

"I have done something which my conscience justifies. Now, what about
the telegram from Acland?"

"He is coming here this evening to have a talk with me. What can he
have to say?"

"Doubtless his visit is accounted for by an interview I had with him
yesterday. I asked him to explain matters to you, as you and he
conducted the business with regard to this place together. Mildred,
Silverbel must be given up."

Her face grew red with passion, she felt inclined to stamp her foot.

"It cannot be," she cried, "we have already paid two thousand pounds
deposit."

"That money was returned by me to Acland yesterday. He has doubtless
heard of another purchaser. It will be a lucky thing for us, Mildred,
if he takes the furniture as well as the place. Pray don't keep me
now."

She gave a sharp cry and flung herself into a chair. Ogilvie paused as
if to speak to her, then changed his mind and went slowly upstairs. On
the landing outside Sibyl's door he paused for a moment, struggling
with himself.

"The bitterness of death lies before me," he muttered, for he knew
that difficult as was the task which he had accomplished that morning
at the Cannon Street Hotel, terrible as was the moment when he stood
before his fellow men and branded himself as a felon, these things
were nothing, nothing at all to that which now lay before him, for
God demanded s