the evidence might be, he would be to her either victim or
champion--and Westall, of course, merely the Holofernes of the piece.

How would Raeburn take it? Ah, well! the situation must develop. It
occurred to him, however, that he would catch an earlier train to
Widrington than the one he had fixed on, and have half an hour's talk
with a solicitor who was a good friend of his before going on to
Birmingham. Accordingly, he rang for William--who came, all staring and
dishevelled, fresh from the agitation of the servants' hall--gave orders
for his luggage to be sent after him, got as much fresh information as
he could from the excited lad, plunged into his bath, and finally
emerged, fresh and vigorous in every nerve, showing no trace whatever of
the fact that two hours of broken sleep had been his sole portion for a
night, in which he had gone through emotions and sustained a travail of
brain either of which would have left their mark on most men.

* * * * *

Then the meeting in the drive! How plainly he saw them both--Raeburn
grave and pale, Marcella in her dark serge skirt and cap, with an eye
all passion and a cheek white as her hand.

"A tragic splendour enwrapped her!--a fierce heroic air. She was the
embodiment of the moment--of the melancholy morning with its rain and
leafless woods--of the human anguish throbbing in the little village.
And I, who had seen her last in her festal dress, who had held her warm
perfumed youth in my arms, who had watched in her white breast the
heaving of the heart that I--_I_ had troubled!--how did I find it
possible to stand and face her? But I did. It rushed through me at once
_how_ I would make her forgive me--how I would regain possession of her.
I had thought the play was closed: it was suddenly plain to me that the
second act was but just beginning. She and Raeburn had already come to
words--I knew it directly I saw them. This business will divide them
more and more. His _conscience_ will come in--and a Raeburn's conscience
is the devil!

"By now he hates me; every word I speak to him--still more every word
to her--galls him. But he controlled himself when I made him tell me the
story--I had no reason to complain--though every now and then I could
see him wince under the knowledge I must needs show of the persons and
places concerned--a knowledge I could only have got from _her_. And she
stood by meanwhile like a statue. Not a word, not a look,