d things to her. Archie came in and sat down on one
of the upturned flower-pots. He was fully dressed now, but still looked
shaken, bewildered, a little cowed, as if he could not understand. At
sight of him Adelle remembered the night, remembered the shaking, feeble
figure of her husband, trying to get his arm into the sleeve of his
dress-coat, useless before the tragedy, useless in the face of life.
"What can I do!" he had whined then. Adelle could not then realize that
she had made him as he was and should be merciful. She was filled with a
physical loathing, a spiritual weariness of him, and turned her face to
the wall so that she might not even see him.

"Adelle," he said. There was no reply. "Dell, dear," he began again, and
put his hand coaxingly upon her shoulder.

She sat up, looking like a fierce animal, her hair tumbled about her
neck and breasts, her pale face drawn and haggard. "Don't touch
me--don't speak to me!" she whispered hoarsely. "Never again!"

She threw into those last words an intensity, a weight of meaning that
startled even Archie, who whimpered out,--"It wasn't my fault!"

Adelle neither knew nor cared then what had caused the fire. It was
stupid of Archie to understand her so badly--she was not blaming him for
the fire. She turned her face again to the wall, but suddenly, as if a
light had struck through her blurred and blunted consciousness of the
world, she called,--

"I want to see him--Clark, the mason;--tell him to come here to see me!"

Archie, crestfallen, sneaked out of the orangery on her errand. After a
time he returned with the young mason, who stumbled into the dark room.
Clark was washed and his cut had been bandaged, but he showed the
terrible strain of those few minutes on the wall. His face twitched and
his large hands opened and closed nervously. He looked pityingly at
Adelle and mumbled,--

"Sorry I was too late!"

That was all. Adelle made a gesture as if to say that it was useless to
use words over it. She did not thank him. She looked at him out of her
gray eyes, now miserable with pain. She felt a great relief at seeing
him, a curious return of her old interest in his simple, native strength
and nerve, his personality. It made her feel more like herself to have
him there and to know that he was sorry for her. After one or two
attempts to find her voice she said clearly,--

"I must tell you something.... I thought of telling you about it before,
but I couldn't. I