the table. Quietly
she touched him, and called him by his name.

He started and looked up; he made an attempt to speak to her in his
customary tone. "I didn't hear you come in," he said.

She pointed to the book, without the slightest change in her face or her
manner.

"I have read the inscription to your wife," she answered; "I have seen
you while you thought you were alone; the mercy which has so long kept
the truth from me is mercy wasted now. Your bonds are broken, Herbert.
You are a free man."

He affected not to have understood her. She let him try to persuade her
of it, and made no reply. He declared, honestly declared, that what she
had said distressed him. She listened in submissive silence. He took
her hand, and kissed it. She let him kiss it, and let him drop it at
her side. She frightened him; he began to fear for her reason. There was
silence--long, horrid, hopeless silence.

She had left the door of the room open. One of the servants of the hotel
appeared outside in the passage. He spoke to some person behind him.
"Perhaps the book has been left in here," he suggested. A gentle voice
answered: "I hope the lady and gentleman will excuse me, if I ask leave
to look for my book." She stepped into the room to make her apologies.

Herbert Linley and Sydney Westerfield looked at the woman whom they had
outraged. The woman whom they had outraged paused, and looked back at
them.

The hotel servant was surprised at their not speaking to each other.
He was a stupid man; he thought the gentlefolks were strangely unlike
gentlefolks in general; they seemed not to know what to say. Herbert
happened to be standing nearest to him; he felt that it would be civil
to the gentleman to offer a word of explanation.

"The lady had these rooms, sir. She has come back from the station to
look for a book that has been left behind."

Herbert signed to him to go. As the man turned to obey, he drew back.
Sydney had moved to the door before him, to leave the room. Herbert
refused to permit it. "Stay here," he said to her gently; "this room is
yours."

Sydney hesitated. Herbert addressed her again. He pointed to his
divorced wife. "You see how that lady is looking at you," he said; "I
beg that you will not submit to insult from anybody."

Sydney obeyed him: she returned to the room.

Catherine's voice was heard for the first time. She addressed herself
to Sydney with a quiet dignity--far removed from anger, further removed