Roma kissed her without speaking, and left the room. In the few minutes that passed before Captain Chancellor came upstairs how many painful anticipations had time to rush through Eugenia's brain! She was determined to go through with what she had promised to Roma and to herself to attempt: she would humble herself to the utmost that she could truthfully do so; she would ask her husband's forgiveness; she would own that she had taken up, with exaggeration and bitterness, Mrs Eyrecourt's version of the past. All this she would say: she owed it to her own self-respect to do so, hopeless as she felt of any good effect it might have on her future, little as she anticipated that it would awaken any generous or tender feelings towards her in her husband's heart. She pictured to herself the cold air of superiority with which he would receive her confession; she recalled the unsympathising contempt with which on several occasions her impulsive endeavours to draw nearer to him, to understand him better, had been thrown back on herself with a recoil of indignant mortification--and she said to herself that her fate was a very hard one. There came a sort of tap at the door, and in answer to her tremulous "come in," Captain Chancellor appeared. She was standing by the table, in the same attitude as that in which Roma left her. She looked up as Beauchamp closed the door, and came forward. To her surprise, she perceived at once that he was looking ill and careworn, and that his bearing was by no means free from agitation. She was so surprised that she forgot what she had meant to say first of all; she opened her lips mechanically, but no sound was heard: then a sort of giddiness came over her for a moment, and half unconsciously she closed her eyes. He was beside her in an instant. "Eugenia," he exclaimed, "Eugenia, how ill you are looking! My poor darling, I may not have understood you--I have been a blind, selfish, careless husband, but oh, my dear, you should not have fancied I was so bad as not to care for your suffering! I did care--I do care. Your leaving me has half broken my heart. Will you not come back and try me again? Will you not believe in my love for you? Truly, it has always been there, though you doubted it." Where were all Eugenia's carefully considered words of confession? "Thus far have I done wrong, but no farther; to this extent have I been wanting in my wifely duty, but not beyond." She threw her arms round her husband's neck, and careless of possible repulse she burst into tears. "Beauchamp," she said, simply, "I am very sorry for what I have done wrong. I will try to please you better in the future if you will forgive the past."