goblet of enchantment that the unambiguous angel held out to him.

CHAPTER III

There were two cups to drink, for he had to put the cup of death to her
lips. He told her all as they walked in the garden that afternoon; of
the growing gravity of symptoms, the interview with the great specialist
to whom his own doctor, unwilling to pronounce a final verdict, had sent
him. He begged her to spare him further interviews. He was to die, that
was evident; and doctors could do nothing for him. If pain came he
promised that he would take what relief they had to give.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, weeping and weeping as they
walked.

They were two lovers again, lovers shut into the straitest, most
compassed paradise. On every side the iron walls enclosed them; there
were no distances; there was no horizon. But within the circle of doom
blossomed the mazy sweetness; the very sky seemed to have narrowed to
the roofing of a bower.

To be in love again; to feel the whole world beating like a doubled
pulse of you-and-I to and fro between them. She must weep, and he, with
this newly born self, must know to the full the pang and bitterness; but
the moments blossomed and smiled over the dread; because the dread was
there. Sir Walter passed away like a shadow. Kitty saw him and came to
her husband from the interview with a composure that almost made him
laugh. It would have hurt her feelings for him to laugh at her, and he
listened gravely while she told him that Sir Walter, now, was going to
accept the big post in India that, for her sake, he had been on the
point of refusing. He was going away that very night. She had been
perfectly frank with him; she had explained to him--"quite simply and
gently" said Kitty--that she had been very foolish and had let her
friendship for him, her fondness, and her loneliness mislead her; yes,
she had told him quite simply that he would always be a dear, dear
friend, but that she was in love with her husband.

The poor toy. The child, with placid hands and unpitying eyes, had
snapped it across the middle and walked away from it. He didn't need her
to say it again; he saw that she had ceased completely to love Sir
Walter. "And weren't you sorry for him at all?" he asked.

"Sorry? Of course, dear, how can you ask?" said Kitty. "I was as tender
as possible. But you know, I can't but feel that he deserved punishment.
Oh, I know that I did, too!--don't think me hard and self-right