of shame."

"The monster! Oh, the monster! He is an evil man for all that you have
said of him."

"Not so. There is no nobler gentleman in all the world. I who know him,
know that. It is through the very nobility of it that this warp has
come into his nature. Sane in all things else, he is--I see it now, I
understand it at last--insane on this one subject. Much brooding has
made him mad upon this matter--a fanatic whose gospel is Vengeance, and,
like all fanatics, he is harsh and intolerant when resisted on the point
of his fanaticism. This is something I have come to realize in these
past days, when I lay with naught else to do but ponder.

"In all things else he sees as deep and clear as any man; in this his
vision is distorted. He has looked at nothing else for thirty years; can
you wonder that his sight is blurred?"

"He is to be pitied then," she said, "deeply to be pitied."

"True. And because I pitied him, because I valued his regard-however
mistaken he might be--above all else, I was hesitating again--this
time between my duty to myself and my duty to him. I was so
hesitating--though I scarce can doubt which had prevailed in the
end--when came this sword-thrust so very opportunely to put me out of
case of doing one thing or the other."

"But now that you are well again?" she asked.

"Now that I am well again--I thank Heaven that it will be too late. The
opportunity that was ours is lost. His--my father should now be beyond
our power."

There ensued a spell of silence. He sat with eyes averted from her
face--those eyes which she had never known other than whimsical and
mocking, now full of gloom and pain--riveted upon the glare of sunshine
on the pond out yonder. A great sympathy welled up from her heart
for this man whom she was still far from understanding, and who,
nevertheless--because of it, perhaps, for there is much fascination in
that which puzzles--was already growing very dear to her. The story he
had told her drew her infinitely closer to him, softening her heart for
him even more perhaps than it had already been softened when she had
seen him--as she had thought--upon the point of dying. A wonder flitted
through her mind as to why he had told her; then another question
surged. She gave it tongue.

"You have told me so much, Mr. Caryll," she said, "that I am emboldened
to ask something more." His eyes invited her to put her question.
"Your--your father? Was he related to Lord Ostermore?"