the blue above. Another moment, and
the noble animal shot past the goal a neck ahead, and the race was won!

CHAPTER XVIII

Glenning's engagement was for eight o'clock the following evening, but
he did not come till nine. Julia met him at the door, garbed in some
dainty white stuff with lace about it, and wearing one rose in her hair,
which waved from her forehead and was dressed low upon her neck.

"I must apologize for my tardiness," he said, gravely, as they walked
into the library, which was softly lighted by a shaded lamp. "But as I
was starting out I had an urgent call from a very poor family on the
edge of town. A little child had fallen and broken its leg. It was a
"charity call," but I hope you will pardon me. I could not let it
suffer."

She felt a warm glow steal to her cheeks as she listened.

"You did right," she told him; "I was sure you had a good reason for
being late."

He tried to speak of the race, but could not. She was also mute. The
hour was too tense for conventionalities. A silence fell between them.
Then suddenly the man gathered together all his moral strength and arose
to his feet. She looked up quickly. He did not meet her eyes till he had
walked to the mantel. Then, facing about, he leaned his elbow upon it,
and returned her gaze.

"The time is ripe for an understanding between us," he said, the awful
strain under which he was labouring making his voice unnatural.

The girl could see that the old haunting gloom had come to his eyes. He
was very white, and the crescent scar upon his forehead was outlined
sharply, even in the dim light.

"It is a tale I had rather suffer death than tell, but I owe it to you
before I can speak of other things which are in my heart."

She caught her breath at this, a quick, sibilant intaking, and because
her hands had at that moment begun to tremble, she clasped them in her
lap. Her large, sympathetic eyes were watching him closely.

"It is hard to begin," he resumed, "but I must do it alone; you cannot
help me. The fault has been mine; let the shame and anguish be mine,
too. Would you object if I told you of something else first?--it seems I
am doomed to ask you to forgive much tonight!"

The pathos and sorrow in his words were almost more than she could bear,
but she signed her permission dumbly, and waited.

"I think it all began that first night I saw you, in such distress. At
any rate, my interest in you and your life was deep and gen