Caspar Brooke walked for an hour before he was calm enough to remember that he ought to go home. When this idea once occurred to him, he felt a pang of shame for his own forgetfulness. What would Alice think of him? And this was the first day that she had been with him in his house for so many years. He must go home and make his apologies. Not that she would expect very much attention from him. Had she not said that she was only trying to do her duty? Probably she disliked him still. He let himself in with his latch-key, and walked straight into the study. A shaded lamp had been lighted, and but faintly illuminated the corners of the room. But there was light enough for him to see that Lady Alice was sitting in his chair. He came up to the table, and looked at her without speaking. There was a strange tumult of feeling in his heart. He wished that he could tell her how gratified he was by her trust in him, how much he prized the very things that had once irritated him against her--her reserve, her fine perception, her excellent fastidiousness of taste, even that little air of coldness that became her so well. To come into her presence was like entering a fragrant English garden, after stifling for an hour in a conservatory where the air was heavy with the perfume of stephanotis. She rose, as he continued silent, and stood on the rug, almost face to face with him. She did not find it easy to speak, and there was something in his air which frightened her a little. She made a trivial remark at last, but with great difficulty. "You have been away a long time," she said. She was not prepared for the answer. He put out his hand and drew her close to him. "You were away a great deal longer," he said, looking down at her fair, serious face. She could not reply. "Twelve years, is it not?" he went on. "That's a long time out of one's life, Alice. I feel myself an old man now." "No, no, Caspar!" she said, tremulously. "What was it all about, Alice? You know I never really understood it. Can't you make me understand? Was it that I was simply unbearable? too disagreeable to be put up with any longer." "No, it was not that. I will speak the truth now, Caspar. I was jealous--I thought you cared for Rosalind Romaine." "But you know now--surely--that that was not true?" "Could you swear it?" she asked, suddenly and sharply, with a quick look into his face. For a moment he was annoyed. Then his brow cleared, and he answered, very gravely-- "I can and will, if you like. But I thought--having trusted me so far--that you could trust me without an oath. Alice, I never loved any woman but one: and that one was yourself. Have you been as true to me as I have been to you?" "I don't think I ever knew that I loved you until now," said Alice, laying her head with a deep sigh upon her husband's breast. "Love is not enough, though it is a great deal: do you trust me?" "Implicitly--now that I have looked at you again." Caspar gave a little laugh.