"It is a beautiful picture," she said, "to come from that land of
darkness; it makes something of the poetry of the Nile."

Watching her, I said to myself, "That woman has not deadened her
conscience; she has tried and failed. There is more good than evil in
her."

All night long there sounded in my ears those words, "A life for a
life!" And I wondered what would, what could, be the punishment of a
mother who took the life of her own child?




CHAPTER X.


This state of things could not last. A shade of fear or mistrust came in
her manner to me. I must repeat, even at the risk of being wearisome,
that I think no man was ever in such a painful position. Had it not been
for my fore-knowledge, I should have loved Mrs. Fleming for her beauty,
her goodness and her devotion to my dear old friend. I could not bear to
tell him the truth, nor could I bear that he should be so basely and
terribly deceived--that he should be living with and loving one whom I
knew to be a murderess. So I waited for an opportunity of appealing to
herself, and it came sooner than I had expected.

One afternoon Lance had to leave us on business; he said he might be
absent some few hours--he was going to Vale Royal. He asked me if I
would take Mrs. Fleming out; she had complained of headache, and he