hall not destroy your own soul and
hers! You love her! So do I! and my love is mightier than yours, for it
shall save her!"

"In God's name--" cried the unhappy priest, striving to stop his ears.

"Ay, in God's name! In the name of that God whom in my torments I had
forgotten! In the name of that God whom you taught me to remember! That
God who sent you to save me from despair, gives me strength to save you
in my turn! Oh, Mr. North--my teacher--my friend--my brother--by the
sweet hope of mercy which you preached to me, be merciful to this erring
woman!"

North lifted agonized eyes. "But I love her! Love her, do you hear? What
do you know of love?"

"Love!" cried Rufus Dawes, his pale face radiant. "Love! Oh, it is you
who do not know it. Love is the sacrifice of self, the death of all
desire that is not for another's good. Love is Godlike! You love?--no,
no, your love is selfishness, and will end in shame! Listen, I will tell
you the history of such a love as yours."

North, enthralled by the other's overmastering will, fell back
trembling.

"I will tell you the secret of my life, the reason why I am here. Come
closer."

* * * * *

CHAPTER XV. THE DISCOVERY.

The house in Clarges Street was duly placed at the disposal of Mrs.
Richard Devine, who was installed in it, to the profound astonishment
and disgust of Mr. Smithers and his fellow-servants. It now only
remained that the lady should be formally recognized by Lady Devine. The
rest of the ingenious programme would follow as a matter of course. John
Rex was well aware of the position which, in his assumed personality, he
occupied in society. He knew that by the world of servants, of waiters,
of those to whom servants and waiters could babble; of such turfites
and men-about-town as had reason to inquire concerning Mr. Richard's
domestic affairs--no opinion could be expressed, save that "Devine's
married somebody, I hear," with variations to the same effect. He knew
well that the really great world, the Society, whose scandal would have
been socially injurious, had long ceased to trouble itself with Mr.
Richard Devine's doings in any particular. If it had been reported that
the Leviathan of the Turf had married his washerwoman, Society would
only have intimated that "it was just what might have been expected
of him". To say the truth, however, Mr. Richard had rather hoped
that--disgusted at his bruta