posted from London, it would have tortured
him the more. Another thought came, and he started forward in his chair.
Was it possible that she had written to him, and that the letter had got
mislaid, among the prodigious quantity which accumulated in those first
days of his unconsciousness?

Then he sank back again. Even if this were so, it was too late now.
Everything was too late--from that awful night when he had become
engaged to Cecilia Cricklander.

She had put the announcement into the paper not quite three weeks after
the accident. What could Halcyone have thought of him and his
unspeakable baseness? Now she could have nothing but loathing and
contempt in her heart, wherever she was--and what right had he to have
broken the beliefs and shattered the happiness of that pure, young soul?

He remembered his old master's words about a man's honor towards women.
It was true then that it was regulated, not by the woman's feelings or
anguish, but by the man's inclination and whether or no the world should
hold him responsible. And he realized that this latter reason was the
force which now prevented his breaking his engagement with Mrs.
Cricklander. He had behaved with supreme selfishness in the beginning,
and afterwards with a weakness which would always make him writhe when
he thought of it.

His self-respect was receiving a crushing blow. He clasped his thin
hands and his head sank forward upon his breast in utter dejection; he
closed his eyes as if to shut out too painful pictures. And when he
opened them again it was darker, and the moon made misty shadows through
the trees, and out of them he seemed to see Halcyone's face quite close
to him. It was tender and pitiful and full of love. The hallucination
was so startlingly vivid that he almost fancied her lips moved, and she
whispered: "Courage, beloved." Then he knew that he was dreaming, and
that he was gazing into space--alone.

CHAPTER XXIX

Mrs. Cricklander, at Carlsbad, was not altogether pleased to receive the
news of her _fiance's_ accession to fortune. She realized that John
Derringham was not the sort of man to give up his will to any woman
unless the woman had entirely the whip hand, as she would have had if he
had been dependent upon her for the financial aid wherewith to obtain
his ambitions. She would have practically no hold over him now, and,
when he was well, he was so attractive that she might even grow to care
too deeply for him for h