to a clearly-marked and unwavering course
of action. She loved to leave the outlines
of her conduct blurred, so as to have
some imaginary margin for escape from the
legitimate consequences of her actions. The
legitimate consequences of our actions are
frequently cruel in their stern logic: and
her unhappy, undisciplined nature shrank
shuddering from the prospect of sustained
endurance.

At the end of the allotted half hour
she tapped at the door of Sir John's dressing
-room; and the instant her fingers had
made the sound, she was overcome by an
access of terror, and would have turned
and run away, had not Paul opened the
door immediately upon her summons. He
ushered her in respectfully; and she found
herself seated—she scarcely knew how—on
a low chair beside the sofa on which Sir
John was reclining.

Their parts seemed to be for the moment
reversed, for it was he who said in a tone of
anxiety, " Good Heavens, how pale you are!
Are you not well?"

He held out his thin, white hand to her,
and lightly touched her fingers with his lips
as he spoke. The words, and still more the
action, caused a sudden revulsion of feeling
in her fluttering heart. The blood rushed
back to her cheeks and lips. Her eyes grew
bright. The tension of the muscles of her
face relaxed. He would not have greeted
her so, had he suspected. She was safe!
What a fool she had been to torment herself
as she had done!

She answered sweetly, leaving her hand
in his, "I was not well. I had a headache
this morning. I went out early to get rid
of it. Perhaps Paul told you?"

"Yes: Paul told me."

The tone of the reply startled her. She
involuntarily glanced round at Paul, who
was arranging his master's dressing-case.
Paul looked grave, honest, melancholy, as
usual.

"Basta! Go away, Paul, and don't come
back till I ring for you," said Sir John,
sharply.

Paul obeyed.

When they were alone together, Veronica
said:

"I feared you were not so well this
morning, so I came to inquire for you
myself."

"How considerate you are!" said Sir
John, shading his eyes with his hand, and
looking at her from beneath that shelter.

It was not unusual with him to adopt a
sneering tone, even in his best humours.
But the ring of his voice now seemed to
Veronica falser than usual. It might be
that this was the effect of the fear which had
left her nerves sensitive and quivering.
At all events she would not display any
mistrust of him at this moment.

"Are you feeling stronger this morning?"
she asked.

"Stronger? Yes. Oh yes, certainly: a
good deal stronger. Had you any reason
for supposing the contrary?"

For a moment she hesitated in a little
embarrassment. Then she answered, "My
reason was, as I told you, that you did not
come to breakfast."

"Ah yes: true! Of course. But now—
tell me—you were out early this morning
you say?"

"Yes."

She began to play with a string of amber
beads that hung round her neck, and she
shifted her chair a little.

"You are not comfortable," said Sir
John, still watching her from beneath his
hand.

"The—the light. There is such a glare."

"Ah, the light? Yes: when one has such
a headache as yours—or even has had such
a headache the light is disagreeable. I
am ashamed that you should have the
trouble of moving that chair for yourself.
But you see what a helpless creature I am
—comparatively, that is: for the fact is, I am
stronger, really stronger. Your kind anxiety
about me does me good. It acts as a cordial."

"Then you do care for my kindness
still?" she said, glancing at him, and then
letting her eyes fall again immediately.

"Care for it! What else have I to care
for, Veronica? It is everything to me.
And it is so precious, so infinitely precious,
in itself!"

She knelt down beside him. Her hand
was still twisted in the string of amber
beads, and she played with them nervously
as she spoke. "And why do you not secure
it, this kindness that you value, for ever?
Why do you not relieve me from the
suspense that—I confess it—makes my temper
fretful and my spirits dull at times?"

"You do not doubt me, Veronica?"

"No, no. But suspense and procrastination
are wearing."

"You do trust me?"

"Yes."

"You trust me as—as I trust you. And
you shall find that your confidence will
meet with its deserts. Do you know what
news I heard yesterday?"

"No. News? News from England?"