He paused, was silent for a moment, then leaned over, caught his
brother's arm, and said, in a low, strenuous voice: "Frank Armour, you
laid a hateful little plot for us. It wasn't manly, but we forgave it
and did the best we could. But see here, Frank, take my word for it,
you have had a lot of luck. There isn't one woman out of ten thousand
that would have stood the test as your wife has stood it; injured at the
start, constant neglect, temptation--" he paused. "My boy, did you ever
think of that, of the temptation to a woman neglected by her husband?
The temptation to men? Yes, you have had a lot of luck. There has been
a special providence for you, my boy; but not for your sake. God doesn't
love neglectful husbands, but I think He is pretty sorry for neglected
wives."

Frank was very still. His head drooped, the cigar hung unheeded in his
fingers for a moment, and he said at last: "Dick, old boy, I've thought
it all over to-night since I came back--everything that you've said.
I have not a word of defence to make, but, by heaven! I'm going to win
my wife's love if I can, and when I do it I'll make up for all my cursed
foolishness--see if I don't."

"That sounds well, Frank," was the quiet reply. "I like to hear you talk
that way. You would be very foolish if you did not. What do you think
of the child?"

"Can you ask me what I think? He is a splendid little fellow."

"Take care of him, then--take good care of him: you may never have
another," was the grim rejoinder. Frank winced. His brother rose, took
his arm, and said: "Let us go to our rooms, Frank. There will be time
enough to talk later, and I am not so young as I once was."