"Never mind, Dolly, I understand now--for I was guilty of listening. I did it purposely, Mother--I couldn't help it. Will you forgive me? When I came back, you had commenced to talk to Dolly, and I heard my name. I stopped, for I wanted to hear what you were saying; it was a dreadful thing for me to do, of course, but I'm not a bit sorry. I am awfully stupid to have lived with you all these years, and yet to have supposed you were such a person as I have always pictured you in my thoughts. I wonder if you are going to forgive me at this late day--" And then Dolly slipped out of the room, glad to the inmost depths of her heart that things were getting "straightened out" as she phrased it. Mr. Newby had had two sensitive natures with which to deal in the days gone by, and he had not appreciated the fact in the least. One of the persons had been only a child, and he had not counted on her as being a definite influence at all. _There_ he had made a great mistake. Even after his marriage, however, if he could have had the courage to tell his story frankly to Beth, and confess his loneliness to her, she would have viewed the matter in a different light. Mrs. Newby knew that in his so doing, lay her only hope of winning the child's heart; but she was proud, too, and if he would not do this voluntarily, she would not beg him to do it. And so, during all these years, for lack of the word never spoken, she and Beth had missed the mutual love and helpfulness which they might have given each other, and which would have made their lives so much sweeter and brighter. Despite the accident of the afternoon, the evening party was a great success, and Beth, much to her open disgust, found herself regarded as something of a heroine. Once during the course of the evening, Mr. Newby heard Beth address his wife as "Mother." A new light had come into his eyes at the time, and a look of quiet determination. The look was still there when he sought his wife in the library after their young guests had gone. CHAPTER X She was putting the room in order, and he stepped to her side as she stood by the table. "Christine, are matters all right at last between you and Elizabeth?" "Yes, John, I think that they are." "It is all my fault that they have ever been any other way. I was selfish, at first, in my fear lest you would ask me to postpone our wedding day; then, afterward, when I saw what a grave mistake I had made, I was too cowardly to take the blame myself and explain matters to the child as I should have done. There was a sort of tacit deceit on my part, Christine, for which I have paid very bitterly. You have made our home beautiful, but, because of my folly, there has been that one jarring note in it." "It is all right now."