"I had it papered and arranged especially for you that summer you came for a few days, and since then no one has been allowed to occupy it." At the landing he called over the railing: "Mrs. Orr, as it will be late when the trunks come, do not send up Mrs. Herriott's until morning. She needs rest, and I do not wish her disturbed before she rings her bell." On a table drawn near the fire in the "blue room" a decanter and glasses glittered in the glow from an open hearth. Mr. Herriott poured out some Tokay. "I am sorry I could not make your home-coming less dismal; but for you the worst is over, and, if you please, we will not refer to it again. To-morrow I shall be engaged with two committees, one relating to a scientific scholarship I wish to establish, and my time is so limited I can be with you very little. The necessity for going via New York, where I must stop, shortens my stay here; and I am compelled to allow some margin for delay _en route_ from Boston to Sydney, where the vessel is due on the fifteenth. This is not exactly a 'loving-cup,' but you must join me." He touched her glass with his, and a deep undercurrent of suppressed emotion surged through the quietly spoken words. "Complete oblivion of all that has distressed you during the last forty-eight hours. Put me entirely out of your thoughts, and remember that now you can be happy with your father." He emptied his glass and replaced it on the salver. "No. I would not forget it if I could. I pray God that you may escape every danger; that you will come back in safety to your home; and while I may never see you again, I hope to hear you are far happier than I could ever have made you." She sipped the wine, put it aside, and continued: "You can not understand the utter ruin of hopes, ambitions, beliefs, that heretofore made my life worth living. In the awful wreck one thing survives--my faith in you, who walk always in the light of 'the high white star of Truth.' I honor and I trust you now as I never did before the ordeal of the last few hours. The fault was mine, not yours; and as I deserve, I wish I could bear all the pain, all the consequences, of my desperate rashness. You do not understand what I suffer." She stood with her hands folded on her breast, so close to him that he noted how wan and drawn the young face had grown, how measureless the misery in eyes peering hopelessly into futurity. "At least I fully and sorrowfully understand one thing--you know no more about love than that baby you nursed on the train." In avoidance of his cold scrutiny, her strained gaze had wandered to the frieze of silver lilies on the wall, but now she looked at him. "Mr. Herriott, you may be sure that when you go away and leave me forever, I shall never learn." There was a sudden glint in his eyes, like a blue blade flash, but after a moment he listened to the clock, and turned away. "Good-night. Get all the sleep you can. You will need it for your journey South to-morrow."