aceful; but is not his need of help all
the greater?"

Selwyn's eyes suddenly narrowed: "Did _you_ help him out, this time?"

"I--I--how do you mean, Captain Selwyn?" But the splendid colour in her
face confirmed his certainty that she had used her own resources to help
her brother pay the gambling debt; and he turned away his eyes, angry
and silent.

"Yes," she said under her breath, "I did aid him. What of it? Could I
refuse?"

"I know. Don't aid him again--_that_ way."

She stared: "You mean--"

"Send him to me, child. I understand such matters; I--that is--" and in
sudden exasperation inexplicable, for the moment, to them both: "Don't
touch such matters again! They soil, I tell you. I will not have Gerald
go to you about such things!"

"My own brother! What do you mean?"

"I mean that, brother or not, he shall not bring such matters near you!"

"Am I to count for nothing, then, when Gerald is in trouble?" she
demanded, flushing up.

"Count! Count!" he repeated impatiently; "of course you count! Good
heavens! it's women like you who count--and no others--not one single
other sort is of the slightest consequence in the world or to it.
Count? Child, you control us all; everything of human goodness, of human
hope hinges and hangs on you--is made possible, inevitable, because of
you! And you ask me whether you count! You, who control us all, and
always will--as long as you are you!"

She had turned a little pale under his vehemence, watching him out of
wide and beautiful eyes.

What she understood--how much of his incoherence she was able to
translate, is a question; but in his eyes and voice there was something
simpler to divine; and she stood very still while his roused emotions
swept her till her heart leaped up and every vein in her ran fiery
pride.

"I am--overwhelmed . . . I did not consider that I counted--so
vitally--in the scheme of things. But I must try to--if you believe all
this of me--only you must teach me how to count for something in the
world. Will you?"

"Teach you, Eileen. What winning mockery! _I_ teach _you_? Well, then--I
teach you this--that a man's blunder is best healed by a man's sympathy;
. . . I will stand by Gerald as long as he will let me do so--not alone
for your sake, nor only for his, but for my own. I promise you that. Are
you contented?"

"Yes."

She slowly raised one hand, laying it fearlessly in both of his.

"He is all I have left," she said. "You know that.