ther that we part. Yes;
do not question me. I would rather that we part. Good-bye.'

Hardly knowing what he did he touched her hand, and obeyed. He was a
scientist, and took words literally. There is something in the
inexorably simple logic of such men which partakes of the cruelty of the
natural laws that are their study. He entered the tower-steps, and
mechanically descended; and it was not till he got half-way down that he
thought she could not mean what she had said.

Before leaving Cape Town he had made up his mind on this one point; that
if she were willing to marry him, marry her he would without let or
hindrance. That much he morally owed her, and was not the man to demur.
And though the Swithin who had returned was not quite the Swithin who had
gone away, though he could not now love her with the sort of love he had
once bestowed; he believed that all her conduct had been dictated by the
purest benevolence to him, by that charity which 'seeketh not her own.'
Hence he did not flinch from a wish to deal with loving-kindness towards
her--a sentiment perhaps in the long-run more to be prized than lover's
love.

Her manner had caught him unawares; but now recovering himself he turned
back determinedly. Bursting out upon the roof he clasped her in his
arms, and kissed her several times.

'Viviette, Viviette,' he said, 'I have come to marry you!'

She uttered a shriek--a shriek of amazed joy--such as never was heard on
that tower before or since--and fell in his arms, clasping his neck.

There she lay heavily. Not to disturb her he sat down in her seat, still
holding her fast. Their little son, who had stood with round conjectural
eyes throughout the meeting, now came close; and presently looking up to
Swithin said--

'Mother has gone to sleep.'

Swithin looked down, and started. Her tight clasp had loosened. A wave
of whiteness, like that of marble which had never seen the sun, crept up
from her neck, and travelled upwards and onwards over her cheek, lips,
eyelids, forehead, temples, its margin banishing back the live pink till
the latter had entirely disappeared.

Seeing that something was wrong, yet not understanding what, the little
boy began to cry; but in his concentration Swithin hardly heard it.
'Viviette--Viviette!' he said.

The child cried with still deeper grief, and, after a momentary
hesitation, pushed his hand into Swithin's for protection.

'Hush, hush! my child,' said Swithin