mised, and a promise with Brenda
is binding. And he has felt his honor involved in not writing or meeting
her. But, though separated, they have been in the same city; they could
hope to catch a glimpse of each other now and then. Heaven only knows
how often he has stood to see her pass, or watched her window, and lived
on such things as unhappy lovers find to live on. After all, the faith
that when he dreamed of her she dreamed of him, that as he kissed a
glove she kissed a silver button, was a life, something to go on with. I
dare say, too, he cherished the hope of some miracle,--it is so natural
to hope!... But now they are sending her away, and it seems to him the
black end of everything."

"I see. And what you want is--"

"To be driven half a world apart for indefinite periods, more than
probably forever, without one look, one word of leave-taking, is truly
too much. Granted that they are not to have each other, they ought not
to be torn in two like a bleeding body. Let them have to remember a few
last beautiful moments!"

Mrs. Hawthorne had become pensive. He watched her sidewise, trying to
divine what turn her thoughts were taking. Her prolonged silence made
him uneasy.

"It wouldn't be wrong, you think?" she asked finally. "Mrs. Foss
wouldn't be cross with us?"

"If it is wrong, my dear Mrs. Hawthorne, let it be wrong!" he cried
impetuously. "If any one is cross, we will bow our heads meekly--after
having done what we regarded as merciful. Let us not permit a cruelty it
was in our power to prevent!"

But Mrs. Hawthorne continued to disquiet him by hesitating, while her
face suggested the travels of her thought all around and in and out of
the question under consideration.

"You don't think it would perhaps be cruel to Brenda?" she laid before
him another difficulty in the way of making up her mind. "Mightn't it
just ruin the evening for her, with the painfulness of good-bys? Or, if
she doesn't in the least expect him, the shock of the surprise?"

"If I know that beautiful girl, passionate as an Italian under her
American self-control, it will be the blessed shock of an answered
prayer. She prays nightly, never doubt it, that Heaven may manage for
her just such a surprise."

He was growing afraid of the calm common sense that tried to see the
thing from every side and weight the merits of each person's point of
view. Feeling it intolerable to be refused, he suddenly appealed to her
pity, away from her