words had cut deep into his own heart they
had scorched Olivia's like a flame. He had seen it in her tear-dried
face seamed and crumpled like a crushed rose, when without a word to
her husband or himself, except a simple--"Good-night, all," she had
left the room but an hour before.

Suddenly he raised his head and listened: A step was mounting the
stairs. Then came a voice from the open door.

"Adam, are you in there?"

"Yes, Olivia."

"May I come in?"

Like a wraith of mist afloat in the night she stole into the darkened
room and settled slowly and noiselessly beside him. He tried to
struggle to his feet in protest, but she clung to him, her fingers
clutching his arm, her sobs choking her.

"Don't--don't go! I must talk to you--nobody else
understands--nobody----"

"But you must not stay here! Think what----"

"No! Please--please--I can't go; you must listen! I couldn't sleep.
Help me! Tell me what I must do! Oh, Adam, please--please! I shall die
if I have to keep on as I have done."

She slipped from the low cushion and lay crouching at his feet, her
arms and face resting on his knees; her wonderful hair, like spun
gold, falling about him, its faint perfume stirring his senses.

Then, with indrawn, stifling sobs she laid bare her innermost secrets;
all her heartaches, misunderstandings, hidden sorrows, and last that
unnamed pain which no human touch but his could heal. Only once, as
she crouched beside him, did he try to stop the flow of her whispered
talk; she pleading piteously while he held her from him, he looking
into her eyes as if he were afraid to read their meaning.

When she had ended he lifted her to her feet, smoothed the dishevelled
hair from her face, and kissed her on the forehead:

"Go now," he said in a broken voice, as he led her to the door. "Go,
and let me think it over."

* * * * *

With the breaking of the dawn he rose from the lounge where he had
lain all night with staring eyes, took the portrait from the easel,
held it for a brief instant to the gray light, touched it reverently
with his lips, turned it to the wall, and then, with noiseless steps,
descended to his bedroom. Gathering his few belongings together he
crept downstairs so as to wake no one, pushed open the front door,
crossed the porch and made his way to the stable, where he saddled his
mare. Then he rode slowly past the lilacs and out of the gate.

When he reached the top of the