of misery stared straight before her.

"It was untrue!" she said at last. "What Richard said of me was untrue."

"Why, yes," Diana snapped, contemptuous. "The only truth is that Richard
is afraid."

Ruth shivered. "Ah, no," she pleaded - she knew how true was the
impeachment. "Don't say it, Diana."

"It matters little that I say it," snorted Diana impatiently. "It is
a truth proclaimed by the first glance at him."

"He is in poor health, perhaps," said Ruth, seeking miserably to excuse
him.

"Aye," said Diana. "He's suffering from an ague - the result of a lack
of courage. That he should so have spoken to you! Give me patience,
Heaven!"

Ruth crimsoned again at the memory of his words; a wave of indignation
swept through her gentle soul, but was gone at once, leaving an ineffable
sadness in its room. What was to be done? She turned to Diana for
counsel. But Diana was still whipping up her scorn.

"If he goes out to meet Mr. Wilding, he'll shame himself and every man
and woman that bears the name of Westmacott," said she, and struck a
new fear with that into the heart of Ruth.

"He must not go!" she answered passionately. "He must not meet him!"