she came into the room confidently enough, the old tension
reasserted itself immediately. I felt that commonplaces would choke
me. And although to this day I cannot condone my behavior, for the
good of my soul I must confess the truth.

I took her in my arms, held her fast and kissed her.

An overwhelming consciousness of guilt came to me even as her lips
met mine, and, releasing her, I turned aside, groaning.

"Isobel!" I said hoarsely--"Isobel, forgive me! I was a cad, a
villain ... to _him_. But--it was inevitable. Try to forget that
I was so weak. But, Isobel--"

I felt her hand trembling on my arm.

"We must _both_ try to forget, Jack," she whispered.

I grasped her hands and looked eagerly--indeed I think wildly--into
her eyes.

"Because my life is over if I lose you," I said, "I suppose I was mad
for a moment. Tell me that one day--when it is fit and proper that you
should do so--you will give me a hearing, and I will perform any
penance you choose. I acted like a blackguard."

"Stop!" she commanded softly.

She raised her eyes, and her grave, sweet glance cooled the fever
which consumed me and brought a great and abiding peace to my heart.

"You were no more to blame than I!" she said. "And because--I
understand, it is not hard to forgive. I don't try to excuse myself,
but even if--_he_--had lived, I could never have gone on with it,
after his ... suspicions. Oh, Jack! why did you leave me to make that
awful mistake?"

"My dearest," I replied, "God knows I have suffered for it."

"Please," she said, and her voice faltered, "help me to be fair to ...
_him_. Never--never--speak to me again--like that ... until--"

But the sentence was never completed; for at this moment in bustled
Aunt Alison--in appearance a white-haired, rosy-faced little matron,
very brisk in her movements and very shrewd-eyed. A dear old lady,
dearer than ever to me in that she had tried so hard to bring Isobel
and my laggard self together. She had, as usual, more to say than
could be said in the time at her disposal. As we proceeded to the
dining-room:

"Now then, you boys and girls, I'm starving, if you're not. What a
time I've had with cook, not knowing when you might be here. Cook's
leaving to be married: I'm afraid she's neglected this sea-kale. Dear,
dear! what love will do for people's minds, to be sure. Put your hair
straight, Isobel, dear, or Mary will think Jack has been kissing you!
I saw her kiss the postman yeste