arance. When I first met him, in
spite of his bitterness and intense misery I knew at once that I was
with a man of fine nature. There was something unmistakable, the rare
imprint; that's fading from him now. You know Father Robertson very
well. I don't. But the very first time I was with him I knew he was
a man who was seeking the heights. Your husband now is _seeking_ the
depths, as if he wanted to hide himself and his misery in them. Perhaps
he hasn't found the lowest yet. I believe there is only one human being
who can prevent him from finding it. I'm quite sure there is only one
human being. That's why I came here."

She was silent. Then she added:

"I've told you now what I wished to tell you, all I can tell you."

In thinking beforehand of what this interview would probably be like
Lady Ingleton had expected it to be more intense, charged with greater
surface emotion than was the case. Now she felt a strange coldness in
the room. The dry rattling of the window under the assault of the gale
was an interpolated sound that was in place.

"Your husband has never mentioned your name to me," she said, influenced
by an afterthought. "And yet I've come here, because I know that the
only hope of salvation for him is here."

Again her eyes went to "Wedded," and then to the sister's dress and
close-fitting headgear which disguised Rosamund. And suddenly the
impulsiveness which was her inheritance from her Celtic and Latin
ancestors took complete possession of her. She got up swiftly and went
to Rosamund.

"You hate me for having come here, for having told you all this. You
will always hate me, I think. I've intruded upon your peaceful life in
religion--your peaceful, comfortable, sheltered life."

Her great dark eyes fixed themselves upon the cross which lay on
Rosamund's breast. She lifted her hand and pointed to it.

"You've nailed _him_ on a cross," she said, with almost fierce
intensity. "How can you be happy in that dress, worshiping God with a
lot of holy women?"

"Did I tell you I was happy?" said Rosamund.

She got up and stood facing Lady Ingleton. Her face still preserved
something of the coldness, but the color had deepened in the cheeks, and
the expression in the eyes had changed. They looked now much less like
the eyes of a "sister" than they had looked when she came into the room.

"Take off that dress and go to Constantinople!" said Lady Ingleton.

Rosamund flushed deeply, painfully; her mouth t