er so weighed on him before. It was
like a revelation. A log--that had to put up with anything! A log! And,
waiting for his valet to return, he cunningly took up his fork.

In that saintly voice of hers she said:

"I suppose you don't realise that it's a shock to me. I don't know what
Ernest will think--"

"Ernest be d---d."

"I do wish, Father, you wouldn't swear."

Old Heythorp's rage found vent in a sort of rumble. How the devil had he
gone on all these years in the same house with that woman, dining with
her day after day! But the servant had come back now, and putting down
his fork he said:

"Help me up!"

The man paused, thunderstruck, with the souffle balanced. To leave
dinner unfinished--it was a portent!

"Help me up!"

"Mr. Heythorp's not very well, Meller; take his other arm."

The old man shook off her hand.

"I'm very well. Help me up. Dine in my own room in future."

Raised to his feet, he walked slowly out; but in his sanctum he did
not sit down, obsessed by this first overwhelming realisation of his
helplessness. He stood swaying a little, holding on to the table, till
the servant, having finished serving dinner, brought in his port.

"Are you waiting to sit down, sir?"

He shook his head. Hang it, he could do that for himself, anyway. He
must think of something to fortify his position against that woman. And
he said:

"Send me Molly!"

"Yes, sir." The man put down the port and went.

Old Heythorp filled his glass, drank, and filled again. He took a cigar
from the box and lighted it. The girl came in, a grey-eyed, dark-haired
damsel, and stood with her hands folded, her head a little to one side,
her lips a little parted. The old man said:

"You're a human being."

"I would hope so, sirr."

"I'm going to ask you something as a human being--not a servant--see?"

"No, sirr; but I will be glad to do anything you like."

"Then put your nose in here every now and then, to see if I want
anything. Meller goes out sometimes. Don't say anything; Just put your
nose in."

"Oh! an' I will; 'tis a pleasure 'twill be to do ut."

He nodded, and when she had gone lowered himself into his chair with a
sense of appeasement. Pretty girl! Comfort to see a pretty face--not a
pale, peeky thing like Adela's. His anger burned up anew. So she counted
on his helplessness, had begun to count on that, had she? She should see
that there was life in the old dog yet! And his sacrifice of the uneaten
so