onsciously moved a little nearer to that shut door.

Twice, three times, she raised her hand to knock, and let it fall again
to her side.

She had no courage. She feared him as she had never feared anyone in her
life, and yet ... once he had been all that was good and kind! Her
aching mind recalled the first days of their acquaintance, his
gentleness and generosity, and with a fresh spurt of courage she lifted
her hand and tapped timidly on the door.

"Come in!" It was her husband's voice, but now again her courage failed
her, and she stood shaking from head to foot, incapable of action.

She heard his step across the room, and then the door opened and he
stood looking at her.

"You! What do you want?" His voice was not unkind, in spite of the
bluntness of the words, and in desperation she raised her eyes.

"I want to speak to you."

There was a little silence. She could read refusal in his face, but
after a moment he opened the door wide, and stood aside for her to
enter, closing it again after her.

"Well?" He went back to the table at which he had been writing, and
looked at her across it with hard eyes.

He was so ill, so worn! Faith stood looking at him in dumb pain, and he
asked again impatiently:

"What do you want?"

"I want you to forgive me."

She was not conscious of having spoken the words, and was terrified when
she heard them echo through the silent room. She felt as if she must
fall. She put her hand on a chair back to steady herself, not daring to
raise her eyes.

Then the Beggar Man gave a dry little laugh.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why?--why?" She echoed the word stammeringly, and he went on
ruthlessly:

"Because you are afraid of being left? Is that it? You need not be.
Digby will marry you as soon as I have set you free. I have not hurt
him--yet! I have told him that I am waiting to see first how he treats
you."

"I don't want him!" The words were a heartbroken cry. "Oh, I never,
never did want him."

There were lines of pain in the Beggar Man's face as he looked at her.
His lips moved twice before he could frame any words.

"Who or what do you want then?" he asked hoarsely.

"You!" She answered him in passionate desperation. It was her last throw
for happiness.

She counted the flying seconds before he spoke, with her thudding
heartbeats, and they seemed to stop when he laughed.

"You can hardly expect me to believe that," he said.

She found her voice with a great effort.