at her again. There was something in her face--

He came nearer, no longer heeding the sounds he made. He bent over
her. Even now she did not seem to breathe.

He saw that her eyelashes were still wet, the pillow by her cheek was
wet. Her white, tear-stained face hurt him....

She was intolerably pitiful to him. He forgot everything but that and
how he had wounded her that day. And then she stirred and murmured
indistinctly a foolish name she had given him.

He forgot that they were going to part for ever. He felt nothing but a
great joy that she could stir and speak. His jealousy flashed out of
being. He dropped upon his knees.

"Dear," he whispered, "Is it all right? I ... I could not hear you
breathing. I could not hear you breathing."

She started and was awake.

"I was in the other room," said Lewisham in a voice full of
emotion. "Everything was so quiet, I was afraid--I did not know what
had happened. Dear--Ethel dear. Is it all right?"

She sat up quickly and scrutinised his face. "Oh! let me tell you,"
she wailed. "Do let me tell you. It's nothing. It's nothing. You
wouldn't hear me. You wouldn't hear me. It wasn't fair--before you had
heard me...."

His arms tightened about her. "Dear," he said, "I knew it was
nothing. I knew. I knew."

She spoke in sobbing sentences. "It was so simple. Mr. Baynes
... something in his manner ... I knew he might be silly ... Only I
did so want to help you." She paused. Just for one instant she saw
one untenable indiscretion as it were in a lightning flash. A chance
meeting it was, a "silly" thing or so said, a panic, retreat. She
would have told it--had she known how. But she could not do it. She
hesitated. She abolished it--untold. She went on: "And then, I thought
he had sent the roses and I was frightened ... I was frightened."

"Dear one," said Lewisham. "Dear one! I have been cruel to you. I have
been unjust. I understand. I do understand. Forgive me.
Dearest--forgive me."

"I did so want to do something for you. It was all I could do--that
little money. And then you were angry. I thought you didn't love me
any more because I did not understand your work.... And that Miss
Heydinger--Oh! it was hard."

"Dear one," said Lewisham, "I do not care your little finger for Miss
Heydinger."

"I know how I hamper you. But if you will help me. Oh! I would work, I
would study. I would do all I could to understand."

"Dear," whispered Lewisham. "_Dear_"

"And to h