al
happiness which seemed to be the common lot of so many round him; for a
home where he had now only a house; for love and warmth and
companionship, and possibly some day a little Molly of his own, who
would not be taken from him at the caprice of another.

The only barrier to the fulfilment of such a dream had been a
conscientious scruple of Ruth's, to which at the time he had urged upon
her that she did wrong to yield. That barrier was now broken down; but
it ought never to have existed. Ruth and he belonged to each other by
divine law, and she had no right to give herself to any one else to
satisfy her own conscience. And now--all would be well. She was absolved
from her promise. She had been wrong to persist in keeping it, in his
opinion; but at any rate she was honorably released from it now. And she
would marry him.

And that _second_ promise, which she had made to Dare, that she would
still marry him if he were free to marry?

Charles moved impatiently in his chair. From what exaggerated sense of
duty she had made that promise he knew not; but he would save her from
the effects of her own perverted judgment. He knew what Ruth's word
meant, since he had tried to make her break it. He knew that she had
promised to marry Dare if he were free. He knew that, having made that
promise, she would keep it.

It would be mere sentimental folly on his part to say the word that
would set Dare free. Even if the American woman were not his wife in the
eye of the law, she had a moral claim upon him. The possibility of
Ruth's still marrying Dare was too hideous to be thought of. If her
judgment was so entirely perverted by a morbid conscientious fear of
following her own inclination that she could actually give Dare that
promise, directly after the arrival of the adventuress, Charles would
take the decision out of her hands. As she could not judge fairly for
herself, he would judge for her, and save her from herself.

For her sake as much as for his own he resolved to say nothing. He had
only to keep silence.

_"There's no one to tell if you don't."_

The door opened, and Charles gave a start as Dare came into the room. He
was taken aback by the sudden rush of jealous hatred that surged up
within him at his appearance. It angered and shamed him, and Dare, much
shattered but feebly cordial, found him very irresponsive and silent for
the few minutes that remained before the dinner-bell rang, and the
others came down.

I