mine are a righteous judgment upon me, and hers she has done nothing to deserve. It is the burden of others which she fastens upon her back."
Wrayson felt instinctively that his continued silence was what she most desired. She was speaking to him, but her eyes had travelled far away. It was as though she had come into touch with other and greater things.
"Louise has not told me everything," she continued. "There is much that she will not confess. So it is necessary, Mr. Wrayson, that I ask you a question. Do you care for her?"
"I do!" Wrayson answered simply.
"You wish to marry her?"
"To-morrow, if she would!"
Madame de Melbain leaned a little forward. Her cheeks were still entirely colourless, but some spark of emotion glittered in her full dark eyes.
"You will be alone with her presently. Try and persuade her to marry you at once. There is nothing but an absurd scruple between you! Remember that always."
"It is a scruple which up till now has been too strong for me," Wrayson remarked quietly.
She measured him with her eyes, as though making a deliberate estimate of his powers.
"A man," she said, "should be able to do much with the woman whom he cares for—the woman who cares for him."
"If I could believe that," he murmured.
She shrugged her shoulders slightly. He understood the gesture.
"You are right," he declared, with more confidence. "I will do my best."
