arest
human organisation. Adrian listened with as courteous a gravity as
either of us would show to a Reincarnationist's extremest doctrines.

It was an immense consolation to old Maisie, evidently, to be taken in
such good faith. Having made up his mind that his conscience should not
stand between him and any fiction that would benefit this dear old lady,
Adrian was not going to do the thing by halves. He launched out into
reminiscences of his own experiences on the Essequibo and elsewhere, and
was able without straining points to dwell on the remarkable
similarities of the Magians of all primitive races. As he afterwards
told Gwen, he was surprised at the way in which the actual facts
smoothed the way for misrepresentation. He stuck at nothing in
professions of belief in unseen agencies, good and bad; apologizing
afterwards to Gwen for doing so by representing the ease of believing in
them just for a short time, to square matters. Optional belief was no
invention of his own, he said, but an ancient and honourable resource of
priesthoods all the world over.

It was the only little contribution he was able to make towards the
peace of mind without which it seemed almost impossible so old a
constitution could rally against such a shock. And it was of real
value, for old Maisie sorely needed help against her most awful
discovery of all, the hideous guilt of the man whom she had loved
ungrudgingly throughout. Nor was it only this. It palliated her son's
crimes. But then there was a difference between the son and the father.
The latter had apparently done nothing to arouse his wife's detestation.
Forgery is a delinquency--not a diabolism!

They talked more--talked a good deal in fact--but only of what we know.
Then Gwen came back, bringing Irene to make acquaintance. This young
lady behaved very nicely, but admitted afterwards that she had once or
twice been a little at a loss what to say.

As when for instance the old lady, with her tender, sad, grey eyes fixed
on Miss Torrens, said:--"Come near, my dear, that I may see you close."
And drew her old hand, tremulously, over the mass of rich black hair
which the almost nominal bonnet of that day left uncovered, with the
reticular arrangement that confined it, and went on speaking,
dreamily:--"It is very beautiful, but _my_ lady's hair is golden, and
shines like the sun." Thereon Gwen to lubricate matters:--"Yes--look
here! But I know which I like best." She managed to col