He stood still, his whole heart and soul given over to a mighty tempest. He knew the secret at last--after years of patient waiting, after spending a fortune in searching for the criminal--he was living here, at his own doors--he was the man he had called brother and friend. He bit his lip to keep down the anger that was fast rising in his heart. No pitying thoughts came to him of the man who had been his friend. Hot, bitter, long-pent-up anger raged in his heart. “For that which he has done he deserves to die,” he said, “and die he shall.” He was startled by the touch of a soft hand, and turning he saw a sight that might have melted a heart less angry than his. Lady Hermione had stolen gently from the room in search of her children. She had brought them in with her, and they were kneeling there at his feet, and she like a sheltering angel behind. “Harry, baby Maude, pray to him, clasp your hands, my babies--look in his face, and ask him to spare papa. Listen, Maudie: ‘Spare papa!’” The lovely baby face was raised to his, the pretty lips lisped the words, “Spare papa!” and Harry, with great tears shining in his blue eyes, said, “Spare papa!” “My God,” cried the unhappy mother, who saw no signs of relenting on that stern face, “soften his heart; take Thou pity on us, since he will have none.” “I have all pity, Hermione,” he said, “all true and tender pity for you and yours, but justice must be done!” Then she stood up before him, and raised the little ones. “Look your last, my children,” she said, “on the face of the man who is a traitor to your father’s trust--who can look at you and take that father from you. You shall see him no more.” He steeled his heart against them. In vain little Harry went back and clasped his arms round him. “You will not make my mamma cry--my own beautiful mamma? Do what she wants you to do, Mr. Eyrle. I know she is not wrong. You love us--you would never hurt papa.” He had to recall the dead white face of his murdered love before he could resist that prayer; then he kissed the child and led him sadly to his mother. Lady Alden took them sadly from the room. When she returned there was a look of determination on her gentle, lovely face. She went up to him. “Once more, Kenelm,” she said, “I ask you, for God’s sake, will you give up your scheme of vengeance? It is years now since the deed was done; it must have brought its own punishment. Will you not let it die--pass into oblivion?” “I will not,” he replied, sternly, “I will keep my oath.” “Tell me, can no prayers, no pleading, move you from this purpose?” “None; that which I have sworn I will do at any cost.” “Give me one hour’s grace, then come to me again. I have something to tell you in one hour. See, I will not leave this spot where I am standing--only one hour.”