realization breaking upon him now like a great flood. The
light came to him in one blinding yet all-illuming flash. A
hundred things that had puzzled him in the last two days grew
of a sudden clear, and filled him with a joy unspeakable. He
dared scarce believe that he was awake, and Cynthia by him -
that he had indeed heard aright what she had said. How blind
he had been, how nescient of himself!

Then, as his thoughts travelled on to the source of the
misapprehension he remembered his son, and the memory was like
an icy hand upon his temples that chilled him through and
through. Lying there with eyes still closed he groaned.
Happiness was within his grasp at last. Love might be his
again did he but ask it, and the love of as pure and sweet a
creature as ever God sent to chasten a man's life. A great
tenderness possessed him. A burning temptation to cast to the
winds his plighted word, to make a mock of faith, to deride
honour, and to seize this woman for his own. She loved him he
knew it now; he loved her - the knowledge had come as suddenly
upon him. Compared with this what could his faith, his word,
his honour give him? What to him, in the face of this, was
that paltry fellow, his son, who had spurned him!

The hardest fight he ever fought, he fought it there, lying
supine upon the ground, his head in her lap.

Had he fought it out with closed eyes, perchance honour and his
plighted word had won the day; but he opened them, and they met
Cynthia's.