He waited a while to give her time for recovery. “It's true,” said he. “I don't believe it,” she cried, facing him again. “The woman warned me against lies that were being told about her--lies to screen Unity.” “It 's true,” he repeated. “If you want proofs, I could get you the newspaper reports of the trial. She was put into prison for three years. Then John swore that Unity should never suffer again, and, by way of reparation, adopted her as his own daughter. He came like a god and lifted her from misery to happiness. That 's why she loves him, as you say, body and soul.” “And he loves her.” Her tone staggered him. “He loves her as a father loves a daughter.” “And she as a woman loves a lover. I'm no longer a child. I know what I 'm talking about.” Then he saw how deep the poison had gone. It was a ghastly travesty of Stellamaris that spoke. “You are talking wickedness, Stellamaris,” he said sternly. “Go on your knees and pray to God for forgiveness.” She threw back her head. “There is n't a God, or He would not allow such foulness and horror to be on His earth. I believe in nothing. I believe nobody. I would just as soon believe that woman as you. At least she did n't pretend to be good. She rejoiced in her vileness. She hid nothing, as every one else hides things. And now--” her voice dropped to a tone of great weariness--“don't you think you've tortured me enough?” The word was a sword through his heart. He stretched out reproachful hands. “Stella, dearest, dearest--” “Forgive me,” she said. “Sometimes I hardly know what I'm saying.” “If you would only trust me!” She shook her head sadly. “I can trust no one, not even you. Let me go now.” He saw that she was at the end of her strength. Any concession that she might make now would be for him a Pyrrhic victory. And it was true that he had tortured her--tortured her, as his whole being asserted, for her soul's welfare. But he could probe her no further. They walked in silence toward the house. Constable, as soon as they had passed, rose and followed them. It is for the greater happiness of big-hearted dogs that they do not understand all things human. At the foot of the staircase leading to Stella's wing they parted. “Stella, darling,” said he, taking her hand, “if you will believe nothing else, believe this: all our hearts are breaking for you.” She looked at him for a long, odd moment, with the diamond glitter in her eyes. “Mine is broken,” she said. He stood and watched her wearily mounting the stairs until she disappeared at the turn of the landing, the old hound scrabbling up behind her. CHAPTER XXI HEROLD caught his train. He had accomplished his mission; Stella had spoken. In a few words he had enlightened Stella's unhappy guardians.