f passionate
speech. "What you have thought and done is no concern of mine. If you
have done anything that you are sorry for, without my knowledge, I
do not wish to know of it. I have seen you do many good and kind acts
during the last month, and I would rather leave those memories untouched
as far as possible. You may have had an object in doing them which in
itself was bad. I do not care. The deeds were good. Take credit for
them and let me give you credit for them. That will do neither of us any
harm."

"I could tell you--if you would let me--"

"Do not tell me," he interrupted. "I repeat that I do not wish to know.
The one thing that I have seen is bad enough. Let that be all. Do
you not see that? Besides, I am myself the cause of it in a
measure--unwilling enough, Heaven knows!"

"The only cause," said Unorna bitterly.

"Then I am in some way responsible. I am not quite without blame--we men
never are in such cases. If I reproach you, I must reproach myself as
well--"

"Reproach yourself!--ah no! What can you say against yourself?" she
could not keep the love out of her voice, if she would; her bitterness
had been for herself.

"I will not go into that," he answered. "I am to blame in one way or
another. Let us say no more about it. Will you let the matter rest?"

"And let bygones be bygones, and be friends to each other, as we were
this morning?" she asked, with a ray of hope.

The Wanderer was silent for a few seconds. His difficulties were
increasing. A while ago he had told her, as an excuse for herself, that
men and women did not always mean exactly what they said, and even now
he did not set himself up in his own mind as an exception to the rule.
Very honourable and truthful men do not act upon any set of principles
in regard to truth and honour. Their instinctively brave actions and
naturally noble truthfulness make those principles which are held up to
the unworthy for imitation, by those whose business is the teaching of
what is good. The Wanderer's only hesitation lay between answering the
question or not answering it.

"Shall we be friends again?" Unorna asked a second time, in a low tone.
"Shall we go back to the beginning?"

"I do not see how that is possible," he answered slowly.

Unorna was not like him, and did not understand such a nature as his as
she understood Keyork Arabian. She had believed that he would at least
hold out some hope.

"You might have spared me that!" she said, t