ly called a dishonourable action.'

'I fear I have. I can only excuse myself by begging you to believe that
no other course was open to me. I have simply cut a hard knot. It was
better than wasting my own life and others' lives in despair at its
hopelessness.'

Wilfrid was collected. The leap taken, he felt his foot once more on
firm ground. He felt, too, that he had left behind him much of which he
was heartily ashamed. He was in no mood to feign an aspect of
contrition.

'You will admit,' observed the lady, 'that this Cutting of the knot
makes a rather harsh severance.'

'It would be impertinent to say that I am sorry for Beatrice. Her
behaviour to me has been incredibly magnanimous, and I feel sure that
her happiness as well as my own has been consulted. I don't know in what
sense she has spoken to you--'

'Very nobly, be sure of it.'

'I can only thank her and reverence her.'

Mrs. Baxendale remained for a moment in thought.

'Well,' she resumed, 'you know that it is not my part to make useless
scenes. I began with my hardest words, and they must stand. Beatrice
will not die of a broken heart, happily, and if your wife is one half as
noble you are indeed a fortunate man. Perhaps we had better talk no more
at present; it is possible you have acted rightly, and I must run no
risk of saying unkind things. Is your father informed?'

'Not yet.'

'You are leaving town?'

'This afternoon.'

'To go to a distance?'

'No. I shall be in town daily.'

'You doubtless inform your father before you leave?'

'I shall do so.'

'Then we will say good-bye.'

Mrs. Baxendale gave her hand. She did not smile, but just shook her head
as she looked Wilfrid steadily in the face.

It was later in the afternoon when she called upon Mrs. Birks. She was
conducted to that lady's boudoir, and there found Mr. Athel senior in
colloquy with his sister. The subject of the conversation was
unmistakable.

'You know?' asked Mrs. Birks, with resignation, as soon as the door was
closed behind the visitor.

'I have come to talk it over with you.'

Mr. Athel was standing with his hands clasped behind him; he was rather
redder in the face than usual, and had clearly been delivering himself
of ample periods.

'Really, Mrs. Baxendale,' he began, 'I have a difficulty in expressing
myself on the subject. The affair is simply monstrous. It indicates a
form of insanity. I--uh--I--uh--in truth I don't know from what point to
look at