all the goodness and kindness that he had lavished on her, no
happiness to him? The thought stabbed poignantly. She choked back
a sob and raised her head, but at the sight of his face the
question she would have asked froze on her lips.

"Bar-ree! you are not angry with me?" she whispered desperately.

"How could I be angry with you?" he replied evasively. She
shivered and clenched her teeth, but the question she feared must
be asked.

"Are you not glad?" it was a cry of entreaty. He did not speak and
with a low moan she tried to free herself from him but she was
powerless in his hold, and soon she ceased to struggle and lay
still, sobbing bitterly. He drew her closer into his arms and laid
his cheek on her dark hair, seeking for words of comfort, and
finding none. She had read the dismay in his face, had in vain
waited for him to speak and no tardy lie would convince her now.
He had wounded her cruelly and he could make no amends. He had
failed her at the one moment when she had most need of him. He
cursed himself bitterly. Gradually her sobs subsided and her hand
slipped into his clutching it tightly. She sat up at last with a
little sigh, pushing the heavy hair off her forehead wearily, and
forcing herself to meet his eyes--looked at him sorrowfully, with
quivering lips.

"Please forgive, Bar-ree," she whispered humbly and her humility
hurt him more even than her distress.

"There is nothing to forgive, O Hara San," he said awkwardly, and