The little châlet looked very still and solemn, like a temple of
Chaldean mysteries, and an unwonted chill of fear passed through Antony
as he stood in the circle of moonlight outside. His spirit seemed aware
of some dread menace to the future in that moment, and a voice was
crying within him to go back.

But the longing that had brought him so far was too strong for such
undefined warnings. Once more he turned the key in the lock, and looked
on Silencieux once more.

The moonlight fell over her face like a veil of silver, and on her
eyelashes was a glitter of tears.

Her face was alive again, alive too with a softness of womanhood he had
never seen before.

"Forgive me, Antony," she said. "I loved you all the time."

What else need Silencieux say!

"But it was so strange," said Antony after a while, "so strange. I
could have borne the pain, if only I could have understood."

"Shall I tell you the reason, Antony?"

"Yes."

"It was because I saw in your eyes a thought of Beatrice. For a moment
your thoughts had forsaken me and gone to pity Beatrice. I saw it in