ress more of passionate resentment than any he had yet
spoken.

'Then you acted wrongly!' he exclaimed, in a firm, clear voice. 'You
were wrong in allowing her to stay and help you in the library. You
were wrong in speaking to her as you did, in asking her to address you
as an equal, and to let you be her friend. You must have known then
what your real meaning was. It is only half a truth that you said and
did nothing to disturb her mind. You were not honest with yourself, and
you had no just regard for me. You _did_ yield to temptation, and all
you have said in defence of yourself has only been true in sound.'

'No! You go too far, Grail. You accused me of baseness, and I have
never had a base thought.'

Then came a long silence. Gilbert stood motionless, Egremont walked
slowly from place to place. The point at issue between the two men was
changed; anger and suspicion were at an end, but so was all hope of
restoring the old union.

Then Egremont said:

'You must tell me one thing plainly. Do you still doubt my word when I
say that I knew nothing of her flight from you, and know nothing of
where she now is?'

'I believe you,' was answered, simply.

'And more than that. Do you think me capable of wronging her and you in
the way you suspected?'

'I was wrong. I was unjust to you.'

Grail could suffer jealousy, but was incapable of malice. The stab of
the revelation that had been made might go through and through his
heart, but the wound would breed no evil humours. He made his admission
with the relief which comes of recovered self-respect.

'Thank you for that, Grail,' Walter replied, moved as a gentle nature
always is by magnanimity.

After another pause, he said:

'May I ask you anything more about her? Had she money? Could she have
gone far?'

'At most she had a few pence.'

'Did she leave no written word?'

'Yes. She wrote something for her sister.'

Walter hesitated. Grail, after a struggle with himself, repeated the
substance of Thyrza's note.

A few more words were interchanged, then Gilbert said:

'I will leave you now, Mr. Egremont.'

Walter dreaded this parting. Could he let Grail go from him and say no
word about the library? Yet what was to be said? Everything was
hopelessly at an end; the hint of favour from him to the other was
henceforth insult. Gilbert was moving towards him, but he could not
look up. Forcing himself to speak:

'If you find her--if you hear anything--will you