suffused her cheeks, she, the mother of his child and many years gone his
wife, he did not move one step to meet her advances. O, her pitiable
confusion!

"Our child," he said, "the beautiful little daughter you have given me,
tells me you still care for me, though, God knows, I don't see how you
could, except that it is your nature and you can't help it. But what I
want to know is this, has the outrage I put upon you caused the fire, that
once burned in your heart for me, to smoulder to ashes, where only a
pleasant warmth remains, or is there still fire there that I can rekindle
to the old-time blaze, no matter what the effort required? What I want,
Julia, is my old place in your heart, if I can have it. I was never a man
that could do things in moderation; and, God help me, undeserving as I am,
that and that alone will satisfy me."

"The fire still burns, my husband; O, how can you doubt it?"

And then the hungry arms closed about her. After a little, when she had
fixed him cosily on the couch and was kneeling beside him, he said:

"I am not by nature an humble man, nor one glib at confession; but there
is one thing I will say, my love, this choleric temperament of mine has
been to me severer flagellation than was ever administered by priestly
hands in expiation of heinous offenses. But I will _down_ it yet, my love;
God helping me, I will down it yet."

The door opened and a golden head was visible.

"May I come in, dear Mamma?"