ad crushed it against
her heart.

Neither slept, until the tide of the night began to turn. Swiftly, to
her, through the throbbing, living darkness, came a question and a
call.

[Sidenote: Peace]

"Mine?"

Back surged the unmistakable answer: "Thine." Then, to both, came
dreamless peace.

XIV

The Light before a Shrine

[Sidenote: Madame Reproaches Herself]

Edith did not appear at breakfast. Alden seemed preoccupied, ate but
little, and Madame, pale after a sleepless night, ate nothing at all.
Furtively she watched her son, longing to share his thoughts and warn
him against the trouble that inevitably lay ahead.

Woman-like, she blamed the woman, even including herself. She knew that
what she had seen last night was not the evidence of a mere flirtation
or passing fancy, and reproached herself bitterly because she had asked
Edith to stay.

And yet, what mother could hope to shield her son against temptation in
its most intoxicating form? For his thirty years he had lived in the
valley, practically without feminine society. Only his mother, and, of
late, Rosemary. Then, star-like upon his desert, Edith had arisen,
young, beautiful, unhappy, with all the arts and graces a highly
specialised civilisation bestows upon its women.

[Sidenote: Looking Back]

Madame's heart softened a little toward Edith. Perhaps she was not
wholly to blame. She remembered the night Edith had endeavoured to
escape a tete-a-tete with Alden and she herself had practically forced
her to stay. Regardless of the warning given by the crystal ball, in
which Madame now had more faith than ever, she had not only given
opportunity, but had even forced it upon them.

Looking back, she could not remember, upon Edith's part, a word or even
a look that had been out of place. She could recall no instance in which
she had shown the slightest desire for Alden's society. Where another
woman might have put herself in his way, times without number, Edith had
kept to her own room, or had gone out alone.

On the contrary, Madame herself had urged drives and walks. Frequently
she had asked Alden to do certain things and had reminded him of the
courtesy due from host to guest. Once, when she had requested him to
take Edith out for a drive, he had replied, somewhat sharply, that he
had already invited her and she had refused to go.

Murmuring an excuse, Alden left the table and went out. Madame was
rather glad to be left alone, for she wa