d, to believe him. "I have
grace enough left in me," she went on, "to feel the bitterest repentance
for the wrong that I have done to Mrs. Linley. When it ends, as it must
end, in our parting, will you ask your wife--?"

Even his patience began to fail him; he refused--firmly, not angrily--to
hear more. "She is no longer my wife," he said.

Sydney's bitterness and Sydney's penitence were mingled, as opposite
emotions only _can_ be mingled in a woman's breast. "Will you ask your
wife to forgive you?" she persisted.

"After we have been divorced at her petition?" He pointed to the window
as he said it. "Look at the sea. If I was drowning out yonder, I might
as well ask the sea to forgive me."

He produced no effect on her. She ignored the Divorce; her passionate
remorse asserted itself as obstinately as ever. "Mrs. Linley is a good
woman," she insisted; "Mrs. Linley is a Christian woman."

"I have lost all claim on her--even the claim to remember her virtues,"
he answered, sternly. "No more of it, Sydney! I am sorry I have
disappointed you; I am sorry if you are weary of me."

At those last words her manner changed. "Wound me as cruelly as you
please," she said, humbly. "I will try to bear it."

"I wouldn't wound you for the world! Why do you persist in distressing
me? Why do you feel suspicion of me which I have not deserved?" He
stopped, and held out his hand. "Don't let us quarrel, Sydney. Which
will you do? Keep your bad opinion of me, or give me a fair trial?"

She loved him dearly; she was so young--and the young are so ready to
hope! Still, she struggled against herself. "Herbert! is it your pity
for me that is speaking now?"

He left her in despair. "It's useless!" he said, sadly. "Nothing will
conquer your inveterate distrust."

She followed him. With a faint cry of entreaty she made him turn to her,
and held him in a trembling embrace, and rested her head on his bosom.
"Forgive me--be patient with me--love me." That was all she could say.

He attempted to calm her agitation by speaking lightly. "At last,
Sydney, we are friends again!" he said.

Friends? All the woman in her recoiled from that insufficient word. "Are
we Lovers?" she whispered.

"Yes!"

With that assurance her anxious heart was content. She smiled; she
looked out at the sea with a new appreciation of the view. "The air of
this place will do me good now," she said. "Are my eyes red, Herbert?
Let me go and bathe them, and make mysel