The last word slipped out not of her will, but from an undisciplined heart. It stood for the whole tangled story of her troubles: the unloved marriage which had bereft her of her heritage of youth and joy, the love that had found her too late and was so poignant a fount of distress to her, the web of untoward circumstance in which she was so inextricably entangled. “How did you ever come to do it?” he asked roughly, out of the bitter impulse of his heart. She knew that the harshness was not for her, as surely as she knew what he meant by his words. “I did wrong. I know that now, but I didn’t know it then. Though even then I felt troubled about it. But my guardian said it was best, and I knew so little. Oh, so very, very little. Why was I not taught things, what every girl has a right to know—until life teaches me—too late?” Nothing he could say would comfort her. For the inexorable facts forbade consolation. She had made shipwreck of her life before the frail raft of her destiny had well pushed forth from harbor. He would have given much to have been able to take the sadness out of her great childeyes, but he knew that not even by the greatness of his desire could he take up her burden. She must carry it alone or sink under it. “You must go away from here back to your people. If not now, then as soon as the trial is over. Make him take you to your friends for a time.” “I have no friends that can help me.” She said it in an even little voice of despair. “You have many friends. You have made some here. Virginia is one.” He would not name himself as only a friend, though he had set his iron will to claim no more. “Yes, Virginia is my friend. She is good to me. But she is going to marry you, and then you will both forget me.” “I shall never forget you.” He cried it in a low, tense voice, his clenched hands thrust into the pockets of his sack coat. Her wan smile thanked him. It was the most he would let himself say. Though her heart craved more, she knew she must make the most of this. “I came up to see Virginia,” he went on, with a change of manner. “I want her to take you driving this afternoon. Forget about that wretched trial if you can. Nothing of importance will take place to-day.” He turned at the sound of footsteps, and saw that Miss Balfour had come into the room. “I want you to take Mrs. Harley into the fresh sunshine and clear air this afternoon. I have been telling her to forget this trial. It’s a farce, anyhow. Nothing will come of it. Take her out to the Homes—take and cheer her up.” “Yes, my lord.” Virginia curtseyed obediently. “It will do you good, too.” She shot a mocking little smile at him. “It’s very good of you to think of me.” “Still, I do sometimes.” “Whenever it is convenient,” she added. But with Aline watching them the spirit of badinage in him was overmatched. He gave it up and asked what kind of a rig he should send round. Virginia furnished him the necessary specifications, and he turned to go.