made up her mind to marry Theo, and she had seen plainly
that this was fitting and wise; yet Joyselle's acceptance of these facts
stirred her to rebellion, and once more she protested against his
voicing of her own determination. "You are quite right," she said
coldly; "it is only a pity that we did not see all this before!"

And in his turn he winced.

"We have been very mad," she continued, her old barbaric love of seeing
him suffer returning. Then in her own pain: "But from this moment on I
shall do my part, as you suggest. No doubt in a month's time we shall
both be laughing at our little tragic comedy."

He did not answer, but his brown face slowly changed colour and he
closed his eyes for a second.

"No doubt. As for me--there is no fool like an old fool, they say.
However, we have come to our senses in time--thank God!" The last two
words came with a sharp, spasmodic sound, and when he had said them he
took from his pocket the silver box, with Marie-Rose engraved on it, and
taking from it paper and tobacco, began to roll a cigarette.

Brigit was dumfounded as well as deeply hurt. His strength filled her
with terror. That he could bow to Fate, she had not expected, and
forgetting, as women do, that men's training from early boyhood teaches
them, as nothing ever teaches women, the trick of momentary
self-control, a wild doubt of his love flashed through her and took her
breath away.

"You are angry," she ventured, hoping, though subconsciously and without
cruelty, to break down his resolution. But he smiled sadly, for he was
sincere.

"No, my dear, I am not angry. I am sad, because I love you--as yet--far
more than I should, but--from this moment on I shall bend all my
strength to the conquering of that love. You must help me. You will know
how, for women always know. Now--will you shake hands with me and bid
God bless me? It is to be a hard struggle for me, but I will win, for my
will is strong, and the cause is good--Is that you, Theo?"

"Yes, father." Theo was trying the door. "Anything wrong?" he added.

Joyselle turned the key. "No," he said quietly as his son entered, "but
we were tired of the good company. I will go now, my dear. Stay and talk
to your _fiancee_."

CHAPTER NINE

An hour later Brigit slowly mounted the stairs at the inn. She was
desperately tired, and as unhappy as she was tired. Joyselle's attitude,
although she was bound in common justice to acknowledge its correctness,