"He swallowed the bait I held out to him; jumped at it. He was so eager to see the plan carried out that, thus, he fell into my power. Yes, even at the last, and meditating further a double treachery, he fell into my power. You have heard that?" "Yes. I have heard all. But--how can I pity him? Now come and see my wife," and Geoffrey made a step towards the cabin aft. "Not yet. Not yet. Give me one moment to recover myself. To meet her--Sophy's friend--will be an ordeal to me. Let me collect myself." Geoffrey busied himself about the deck, giving orders for the bestowal of raffle and other things until he thought Granger might feel sufficiently calm to meet Ariadne, then, turning to where the latter still stood with his eyes fixed on the river, he said again-- "Come. She desires so much to see you." "Go on. Lead me to her." Whereon, conducting Granger past the sentry and through the outer cabin, or office, he tapped gently on the door of the saloon, and opening it, said-- "Ariadne, Mr. Granger is here," while, motioning the other to enter, he closed the door, not going in himself. "'Tis best that they should be alone," he thought, his mind delicate and manly as ever. "Far better. It is indeed an ordeal for him." And Granger, entering that saloon--while thinking how long it was since he had been admitted as a visitor to such a place--how long since he had stood face to face and on terms of equality with a gentle, refined woman!--knew that before him, and gazing pityingly at him, was Ariadne Barry, the dearest friend of the woman whom he had loved and lost. CHAPTER XXI. A DIVINE DESPAIR. At first he did not dare to raise his eyes to the slim girlish figure standing there, his emotion being too great. Nor, if he saw it, had he dared to take the hand held out to him, but dropped a moment later at its owner's side. But then, at last, he lifted his bowed head and gazed at her, seeing at one glance that she also was looking full at him. Seeing, too, that the sweet, delicate mouth was trembling, and that the pure, clear eyes were welling over with tears. And he observed also that, as he became witness of her emotion and deep sympathy for him and his despair, she turned her face away, while, moving towards a chair, she made a sign for him to also be seated. "God bless you," she heard him mutter in a low, deep voice. "God bless you for your womanly compassion." "Mr. Granger," she said a moment later, and still the sweet mouth trembled and her eyes were full of tears, "I have sent for--asked you to come to me--because I know so much of your past--your hopes. So much, too, of your unhappiness. Oh! Mr. Granger, I was Sophy Jervis's greatest friend." "I know it," he murmured. "I know it. She told you all: Of my love--nay--it was not love, but idolatry!--of its too bitter ending. Though it is not, never can be ended."