did not see her till he came into the drawing-room. As he opened the
door he saw her sitting by the fire reading, in a dark blue dress.

"I'm afraid I'm late," he said, as he walked to the hearth. "I wrote to
mother, Beattie and godfather to tell them what I was going to do."

"What you had done," she said quietly, putting down the book.

"I haven't actually been sworn in yet, but of course it is practically
the same thing."

He looked at her almost surreptitiously. She was very grave, but there
was absolutely nothing hostile or angry in her expression or manner.
They went into the dining-room, and talked together much as usual during
dinner. As soon as dinner was over, and the parlor-maid had gone out,
having finished her ministrations, which to Dion that night had seemed
innumerable and well-nigh unbearable, he said:

"I'm dreadfully sorry about to-day. I did the wrong thing in
volunteering without saying anything to you. Of course you were hurt and
startled----"

He looked at her and paused.

"Yes, I was. I couldn't help it, and I don't think you ought to have
done what you did. But you have made a great sacrifice--very great. I
only want to think of that, Dion, of how much you are giving up, and of
the cause--our cause."

She spoke very earnestly and sincerely, and her eyes looked serious and
very kind.

"Don't let us go back to anything sad, or to any misunderstanding now,"
she continued. "You are doing an admirable thing, and I shall always be
glad you had the will to do it, were able to do it. Tell me everything.
I want to live in your new life as much as I can. I want you to feel me
in it as much as you can."

"She has prayed over it. While I was writing my letters she was praying
over it."

Suddenly Dion knew this as if Rosamund had opened her heart to him and
had told it. And immediately something which was like a great light
seemed not only to illumine the present moment but also to throw a
piercing ray backwards upon all his past life with Rosamund. In the
light of this ray he discerned a shadowy something, which stood between
Rosamund and him, keeping them always apart. It was a tremendous
Presence; his feeling was that it was the Presence of God. Abruptly he
seemed to be aware that God had always stood, was standing now, between
him and his wife. He remembered the words in the marriage service,
"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." "But God,"
he thought, "did not join