her　always　like　a　mantle。　　He；　sensitive　like　a　bond　slave　to　the
  moods　of　the　master；　was　moved　by　the　subtle　relenting　of　her　grace
  to　an　infinite　tenderness。　　He　fought　down　the　impulse　to　seize　her
  by　the　hand；　lead　her　down　into　the　garden　away　under　the　big
  trees；　and　throw　himself　at　her　feet　uttering　words　of　love。　　His
  emotion　was　so　strong　that　he　had　to　cough　slightly；　and　not
  knowing　what　to　talk　to　her　about　he　began　to　tell　her　of　his
  mother　and　sisters。　　All　the　family　were　coming　to　London　to　live
  there；　for　some　little　time　at　least。
  〃I　hope　you　will　go　and　tell　them　something　of　me。　　Something
  seen；〃　he　said　pressingly。
  By　this　miserable　subterfuge；　like　a　man　about　to　part　with　his
  life；　he　hoped　to　make　her　remember　him　a　little　longer。
  〃Certainly；〃　she　said。　　〃I'll　be　glad　to　call　when　I　get　back。　　But
  that　'when'　may　be　a　long　time。〃
  He　heard　a　light　sigh。　　A　cruel　jealous　curiosity　made　him　ask　…
  〃Are　you　growing　weary；　Miss　Moorsom？〃
  A　silence　fell　on　his　low　spoken　question。
  〃Do　you　mean　heart…weary？〃　sounded　Miss　Moorsom's　voice。　　〃You
  don't　know　me；　I　see。〃
  〃Ah！　　Never　despair；〃　he　muttered。
  〃This；　Mr。　Renouard；　is　a　work　of　reparation。　　I　stand　for　truth
  here。　　I　can't　think　of　myself。〃
  He　could　have　taken　her　by　the　throat　for　every　word　seemed　an
  insult　to　his　passion；　but　he　only　said　…
  〃I　never　doubted　the　…　the　…　nobility　of　your　purpose。〃
  〃And　to　hear　the　word　weariness　pronounced　in　this　connection
  surprises　me。　　And　from　a　man　too　who；　I　understand；　has　never
  counted　the　cost。〃
  〃You　are　pleased　to　tease　me；〃　he　said；　directly　he　had　recovered
  his　voice　and　had　mastered　his　anger。　　It　was　as　if　Professor
  Moorsom　had　dropped　poison　in　his　ear　which　was　spreading　now　and
  tainting　his　passion；　his　very　jealousy。　　He　mistrusted　every　word
  that　came　from　those　lips　on　which　his　life　hung。　　〃How　can　you
  know　anything　of　men　who　do　not　count　the　cost？〃　he　asked　in　his
  gentlest　tones。
  〃From　hearsay　…　a　little。〃
  〃Well；　I　assure　you　they　are　like　the　others；　subject　to　suffering；
  victims　of　spells。　。　。　。〃
  〃One　of　them；　at　least；　speaks　very　strangely。〃
  She　dismissed　the　subject　after　a　short　silence。　　〃Mr。　Renouard；　I
  had　a　disappointment　this　morning。　　This　mail　brought　me　a　letter
  from　the　widow　of　the　old　butler　…　you　know。　　I　expected　to　learn
  that　she　had　heard　from　…　from　here。　　But　no。　　No　letter　arrived
  home　since　we　left。〃
  Her　voice　was　calm。　　His　jealousy　couldn't　stand　much　more　of　this
  sort　of　talk；　but　he　was　glad　that　nothing　had　turned　up　to　help
  the　search；　glad　blindly；　unreasonably　…　only　because　it　would　keep
  her　longer　in　his　sight　…　since　she　wouldn't　give　up。
  〃I　am　too　near　her；〃　he　thought；　moving　a　little　further　on　the
  seat。　　He　was　afraid　in　the　revulsion　of　feeling　of　flinging
  himself　on　her　hands；　which　were　lying　on　her　lap；　and　covering
  them　with　kisses。　　He　was　afraid。　　Nothing；　nothing　could　shake
  that　spell　…　not　if　she　were　ever　so　false；　stupid；　or　degraded。
  She　was　fate　itself。　　The　extent　of　his　misfortune　plunged　him　in
  such　a　stupor　that　he　failed　at　first　to　hear　the　sound　of　voices
  and　footsteps　inside　the　drawing…room。　　Willie　had　come　home　…　and
  the　Editor　was　with　him。
  They　burst　out　on　the　terrace　babbling　noisily；　and　then　pulling
  themselves　together　stood　still；　surprising　…　and　as　if　themselves
  surprised。
  CHAPTER　VII
  They　had　been　feasting　a　poet　from　the　bush；　the　latest　discovery
  of　the　Editor。　　Such　discoveries　were　the　business；　the　vocation；
  the　pride　and　delight　of　the　only　apostle　of　letters　in　the
  hemisphere；　the　solitary　patron　of　culture；　the　Slave　of　the　Lamp　…
  as　he　subscribed　himself　at　the　bottom　of　the　weekly　literary　page
  of　his　paper。　　He　had　had　no　difficulty　in　persuading　the　virtuous
  Willie　（who　had　festive　instincts）　to　help　in　the　good　work；　and
  now　they　had　left　the　poet　lying　asleep　on　the　hearthrug　of　the
  editorial　room　and　had　rushed　to　the　Dunster　mansion　wildly。　　The
  Editor　had　another　discovery　to　announce。　　Swaying　a　little　where
  he　stood　he　opened　his　mouth　very　wide　to　shout　the　one　word
  〃Found！〃　　Behind　him　Willie　flung　both　his　hands　above　his　head　and
  let　them　fall　dramatically。　　Renouard　saw　the　four　white…headed
  people　at　the　end　of　the　terrace　rise　all　together　from　their
  chairs　with　an　effect　of　sudden　panic。
  〃I　tell　you　…　he　…　is　…　found；〃　the　patron　of　letters　shouted
  emphatically。
  〃What　is　this！〃　exclaimed　Renouard　in　a　choked　voice。　　Miss　Moorsom
  seized　his　wrist　suddenly；　and　at　that　contact　fire　ran　through　all
  his　veins；　a　hot　stillness　descended　upon　him　in　which　he　heard　the
  blood　…　or　the　fire　…　beating　in　his　ears。　　He　made　a　movement　as
  if　to　rise；　but　was　restrained　by　the　convulsive　pressure　on　his
  wrist。
  〃No；　no。〃　　Miss　Moorsom's　eyes　stared　black　as　night；　searching　the
  space　before　her。　　Far　away　the　Editor　strutted　forward；　Willie
  following　with　his　ostentatious　manner　of　carrying　his　bulky　and
  oppressive　carcass　which；　however；　did　not　remain　exactly
  perpendicular　for　two　seconds　together。
  〃The　innocent　Arthur　。　。　。　Yes。　　We've　got　him；〃　the　Editor　became
  very　business…like。　　〃Yes；　this　letter　has　done　it。〃
  He　plunged　into　an　inside　pocket　for　it；　slapped　the　scrap　of　paper
  with　his　open　palm。　　〃From　that　old　woman。　　William　had　it　in　his
  pocket　since　this　morning　when　Miss　Moorsom　gave　it　to　him　to　show
  me。　　Forgot　all　about　it　till　an　hour　ago。　　Thought　it　was　of　no
  importance。　　Well；　no！　　Not　till　it　was　properly　read。〃
  Renouard　and　Miss　Moorsom　emerged　from　the　shadows　side　by　side；　a
  well…matched　couple；　animated　yet　statuesque　in　their　calmness　and
  in　their　pallor。　　She　had　let　go　his　wrist。　　On　catching　sight　of
  Renouard　the　Editor　exclaimed：
  〃What　…　you　here！〃　in　a　quite　shrill　voice。
  There　came　a　dead　pause。　　All　the　faces　had　in　them　something
  dismayed　and　cruel。
  〃He's　the　very　man　we　want；〃　continued　the　Editor。　　〃Excuse　my
  excitement。　　You　are　the　very　man；　Renouard。　　Didn't　you　tell　me
  that　your　assistant　called　himself　Walter？　　Yes？　　Thought　so。　　But
  here's　that　old　woman　…　the　butler's　wife　…　listen　to　this。　　She
  writes：　　All　I　can　tell　you；　Miss；　is　that　my　poor　husband　directed
  his　letters　to　the　name　of　H。　Walter。〃
  Renouard's　violent　but　repressed　exclamation　was　lost　in　a　general
  murmur　and　shuffle　of　feet。　　The　Editor　made　a　step　forward；　bowed
  with　creditable　steadiness。
  〃Miss　Moorsom；　allow　me　to　congratulate　you　from　the　bottom　of　my
  heart　on　the　happy　…　er　…　issue。　。　。　〃
  〃Wait；〃　muttered　Renouard　irresolutely。
  The　Editor　jumped　on　him　in　the　manner　of　their　old　friendship。
  〃Ah；　you！　　You　are　a　fine　fellow　too。　　With　your　solitary　ways　of
  life　you　will　end　by　having　no　more　discrimination　than　a　savage。
  Fancy　living　with　a　gentleman　for　months　and　never　guessing。　　A
  man；　I　am　certain；　accomplished；　remarkable；　out　of　the　common；
  since　he　had　been　distinguished〃　（he　bowed　again）　〃by　Miss　Moorsom；
  whom　we　all　admire。〃
  She　turned　her　back　on　him。
  〃I　hope　to　goodness　you　haven't　been　leading　him　a　dog's　life；
  Geoffrey；〃　the　Editor　addressed　his　friend　in　a　whispered　aside。
  Renouard　seized　a　chair　violently；　sat　down；　and　propping　his　elbow
  on　his　knee　leaned　his　head　on　his　hand。　　Behind　him　the　sister　of
  the　professor　looked　up　to　heaven　and　wrung　her　hands　stealthily。
  Mrs。　Dunster's　hands　were　clasped　forcibly　under　her　chin；　but　she；
  dear　soul；　was　looking　sorrowfully　at　Willie。　　The　model　nephew！
  In　this　strange　state！　　So　very　much　flushed！　　The　careful
  disposition　of　the　thin　hairs　across　Willie's　bald　spot　was
  deplorably　disarranged；　and　the　spot　itself　was　red　and；　as　it
  were；　steaming。
  〃What's　the　matter；　Geoffrey？〃　　The　Editor　seemed　disconcerted　by
  the　silent　attitudes　round　him；　as　though　he　had　expected　all　these
  people　to　shout　and　dance。　　〃You　have　him　on　the　island　…　haven't
  you？〃
  〃Oh；　yes：　　I　have　him　there；〃　said　Renouard；　without　looking　up。
  〃Well；　then！〃　　The　Editor　looked　helplessly　around　as　if　begging
  for　response　of　some　sort。　　But　the　only　response　that　came　was
  very　unexpected。　　Annoyed　at　being　left　in　the　background；　and　also
  because　very　little　drink　made　him　nasty；　the　emotional　Willie
  turned　malignant　all　at　once；　and　in　a　bibulous　tone　surprising　in
  a　man　able　to　keep　his　balance　so　well　…
  〃Aha！　　But　you　haven't　got　him　here　…　not　yet！〃　he　sneered。　　〃No！
  You　haven't