instantly to the room in
which he lay. He opened his eyes as soon as she entered, and fixed them
eagerly upon her.

"So you have come," he said. There was a touch of satisfaction in his
tone. She knelt down beside him and took his hand. "Talk to me," he
murmured.

Kitty and Brian, who had entered with Angela, marvelled at the request.
They marvelled more when she complied with it in a curiously undoubting
way. It seemed as if she understood his needs, his peculiarities, even
his sins, exactly. She spoke of the holiest things in a simple, direct
way, which evidently appealed to something within him; for, though he
did not respond, he lay with his eyes fixed upon her face, and gave no
sign of discontent.

At last he sighed, and bade her stop.

"It's all wrong," he said, wearily. "I had forgotten. I ought to have a
priest."

"There is one waiting downstairs," said Brian.

Hugo started at the voice.

"So you are there?" he said. "Oh, it's no use. No priest would absolve
me until--until----"

"Yes: until what?" said Angela. But he made no answer.

Presently, however, he pressed her hand, and murmured:--

"You were always good to me."

"Dear Hugo!"

"And I loved you--a little--not in the way I loved Kitty--but as a
saint--an angel. Do you think you could forgive me if I had wronged
you!"

"Yes, dear, I believe so."

"If you forgive me, I shall think that there is some hope. But I don't
know. Brian is there still, is he not? I have something to say to him."

Brian came forward, a little reluctantly. Hugo looked at him with those
melancholy, sunken eyes, in which a sort of fire seemed to smoulder
still.

"Brian will never forgive me," he said.

"Yes, Hugo, he will," said Angela.

Brian gave an inarticulate murmur, whether of assent or dissent they
could not tell. But he did not look at Hugo's face.

"I know," said Hugo. "It doesn't matter. I don't care. I was justified
in what I did."

"You hear," said Brian to Angela, in a very low voice.

But Hugo went on without noticing.

"Justified--except in one thing. And I want to tell you about that."

"You need not," said Brian, quietly. "If it is anything fresh, I do not
wish to hear."

"Brian," said Angela, "you are hard."

"No, he is not too hard," Hugo interposed, in a dreamy voice, more as if
he were talking to himself than to them. "He was always good to me: he
did more for me than anybody else. More than Richard. I always hated
Richard. I wi