'I shall bring her back to-night, of course.'

'But, my dear! You must divorce her, however unpleasant on account of
the papers. Remember, she has been there a week.'

'What of that?'

'But a week, dear!'

'Mother, I did not think to hear the talk of the filthy world from
you.'

Mrs. Marston quailed a little. There is nothing in the world so pure,
so wonderful, so strong, as a young man's love can be--nothing so
spiritual, nothing so brave.

Mrs. Marston, in her own words, 'shed tears.'

'Don't cry, mother, but help me,' Edward said. 'Be ready for her, love
her. She is as pure as a dew-drop. I know it. And I want her more than
life.'

'But if she doesn't want you, Edward, what more is to do?'

'To seek and to save,' snapped Edward, and he banged the door and went
hatless down the path between the heavy-browed tombstones. But he came
back to suggest that there should be some tea ready.

As he went down the batch, owls were shrieking in the woods, and the
sky was pied with grey and crimson, like bloodstained marble. The cries