r, this makes it easy for me. If He wills it
that I live, then, in His infinite mercy, He also gives me the
reason for living."

Icy cold, Ailsa's hand lay there, limply touching Berkley's; the
sick man's eyes were upon them.

"Philip!"

"Sir?"

"My watch is hanging from a nail on the wall. There is a chamois
bag hanging with it. Give--it--to me."

And when it lay in his hand he picked at the string, forced it
open, drew out a key, and laid it in Berkley's hand with a faint
smile.

"You remember, Philip?"

"Yes, sir."

The wounded man looked at Ailsa wistfully.

"It is the key to my house, dear. One day, please God, you and
Philip will live there." . . . He closed his eyes, groping for
both their hands, and retaining them, lay silent as though asleep.

Berkley's palm burned against hers; she never stirred, never moved
a muscle, sitting there as though turned to stone. But when the
wounded man's frail grasp relaxed, cautiously, silently, she freed
her fingers, rose, looked down, listening to his breathing, then,
without a glance at Berkley, moved quietly toward the door.

He was behind her a second later, and she turned to confront him in
the corridor lighted by a single window.

"Will you tell me what has changed you?" he said.

"Something which that ghastly farce cannot influence!" she said,
hot faced, eyes brilliant with anger. "I loved Colonel Arran
enough to endure it--endure your touch--which
shames--defiles--which--which outrages every instinct in me!"

Breathless, scornful, she drew back, still facing him.

"The part you have played in my life!" she said bitterly--"think it
over. Remember what you have been toward me from the first--a
living insult! And when you remember--all--remember that in spite
of _all_ I--I loved you--stood before you in the rags of my
pride--all that you had left me to clothe myself!--stood upright,
unashamed, and acknowledged that I loved you!"

She made a hopeless gesture.

"Oh, you had all there was of my heart! I gave it; I laid it
beside my pride, under your feet. God knows what madness was upon
me--and you had flung my innocence into my face! And you had held
me in your embrace, and looked me in the eyes, and said you would
not marry me. And I still loved you!"

Her hands flew to her breast, higher, clasped against the full,
white throat.

"Now, have I not dragged my very soul naked under your eyes? Have
I not confessed enough. What more do