had earned by a great love and a great renunciation, of which no earthly
power might henceforth deprive her . . . .

Then came the motor, the ring at the door, the entrance of Eldon Parr
into the library. He paused, a perceptible moment, on the threshold as
his look fell upon the man whom he had deprived of home and fortune,--yes
and of the one woman in the world for them both. Mr. Bentley had risen,
and stood facing him. That shining, compassionate gaze should have been
indeed a difficult one to meet. Vengeance was the Lord's, in truth!
What ordeal that Horace Bentley in anger and retribution might have
devised could have equalled this!

And yet Eldon Parr did meet it--with an effort. Hodder, from his corner,
detected the effort, though it were barely discernible, and would have
passed a scrutiny less rigid,--the first outward and visible sign of the
lesion within. For a brief instant the banker's eyes encountered Mr.
Bentley's look with a flash of the old defiance, and fell, and then swept
the room.

"Will you come this way, Mr. Parr?" Mr. Bentley said, indicating the door
of the bedroom.

Alison followed. Her eyes, wet with unheeded tears, had never left Mr.
Bentley's face. She put out her hand to him . . . .

Eldon Parr had halted abruptly. He knew from Alison the circumstances in
which his son had died, and how he had been brought hither to this house,
but the sight of the woman beside the bed fanned into flame his fury
against a world which had cheated him, by such ignominious means, of his
dearest wish. He grew white with sudden passion.