him?" he pleaded.

"No."

"But why?" He spoke very gently, almost in appeal.

"Why?" she repeated tonelessly, her eyes still fixed on his face,
"because he is--hers--Aurora Googe's--"

She paused for another effort. Her eyes turned at last to the portrait
of Louis Champney on the wall at the foot of her bed.

"She took all his love--all--all his love--and he was my husband--I
loved my husband--But you don't know--"

"What, Mrs. Champney? Let me help you, if I can."

"No help--I loved my husband--he used to lie here--by my side--on this
bed--and cry out--in his sleep for her--lie here--by my side in--the
night--and stretch out his arms--for her--not me--not for me--"

Her eyes were still fixed on Louis Champney's face. Suddenly the lids
drooped; she grew drowsy, but continued to murmur, incoherently at
first, then inarticulately.

The nurse stepped to his side. Father Honore's eyes dwelt pityingly for
a moment on this deathbed; then he turned and left the room, marvelling
at the differentiated expression in this life of that which we name
Love.

Octavius was waiting for him in the lower hall.

"Did you see her?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes; but to no purpose; her life has been lived, Mr. Buzzby; nothing
can affect it now."

"You don't mean she's gone?" Octavius started at the sound of his own
voice; it seemed to echo through the house.

"No; but it is, I believe, only a question of an hour at most."

"I'd better drive up then for Aileen; she ought to know--ought to be
here."

"Believe me, it would be useless, Mr. Buzzby. Those two belong to life,
not to death--leave them alone together; and leave her there above, to
her Maker and the infinite mercy of His Son."

"Amen," said Octavius Buzzby solemnly; but his thought was with those
whom he had seen leave Champ-au-Haut through the same outward-opening
portal that was now set wide for its mistress: the old Judge, and his
son, Louis--the last Champney.

He accompanied Father Honore to the door.

"No farther, Mr. Buzzby," he said, when Octavius insisted on driving him
home. "Your place is here. I shall take the tram as usual at The Bow."

They shook hands without further speech. In the deepening twilight
Octavius watched him down the driveway. Despite his sixty years he
walked with the elastic step of young manhood.

XI

"Unworthy--unworthy!" was Champney Googe's cry, as he knelt before
Aileen in an access of shame and contrition in the presence o