oward him a piteous look of appeal, and then
approached him, in search after sympathy. The two were soon engaged in
conversation, while Ashby, whom this ludicrous figure had very forcibly
affected, stood aloof watching him, with a smile on his face which he was
unable to repress.

The unhappy Russell, full of horror at the prospect before him, still
clung to some vague and undefined hopes that at the very last moment some
chance might intervene to prevent the terrible tragedy of a marriage with
Rita. The appearance of Harry seemed a good omen. He hailed it as such;
and had an angel appeared, the sight could scarcely have afforded more joy
to the virtuous Russell than that which he felt at the sight of Harry.

While these two were conversing, Brooke appeared, followed by Talbot.
Harry's back was turned to the door, so that he did not see Talbot, and
Talbot did not see his face.

But even if Harry's face had been full before her, she would not have seen
it. With a slow step, a face pale as marble, and eyes fixed on the floor,
deep in thoughts which were far, far removed from this room and its
surroundings, Talbot entered, following Brooke, who was as blind to the
assembled company and as deeply preoccupied as herself. Before each there
was a terrible ordeal. As for Talbot, she was to be the central figure,
and how could she perform her part? For Talbot it was a simple matter to
sum up the whole situation. She could either consent or refuse. But for
Brooke there was a harder task. It was for him to try to discover some way
of saving a friend, whom to save was an impossibility. And so all that
Talbot suffered was likewise suffered by Brooke, who, in addition, had his
own peculiar sufferings to bear, while Talbot, in addition to her own
sufferings, was afflicted still more by the full knowledge of all that
Brooke was undergoing.

While Harry was talking with Russell he threw a casual glance around, and
caught the outline of Talbot's figure. He saw--what? Only the priest, as
he thought. It was enough for him. A mere priest was a profoundly
uninteresting personage. His eyes saw no deeper than the external dress,
and he went on talking with Russell.

Two or three more soldiers now came in, until at length there were about a
dozen. All the other soldiers were outside. At any other time this unusual
ceremony would have attracted a few idle gazers; but just now all the rest
of the men were intent upon the important business of