"Wait a moment!" said Meynell, following him, and laying his hand on the open page. "I don't want you to sign that by _force majeure_. Dismiss--if you can--any thought of any hold I may have upon you, because of Maurice's misdoing. You and I, Barron, have known each other some years. We were once friends. I ask you--not under any threat--not under any compulsion--to accept my word as an honest man that I am absolutely innocent of the charge you have brought against me." Barron, who was sitting before his writing-table, buried his face in his hands a moment, then raised it. "I accept it," he said, almost inaudibly. "You believe me?" "I believe you." Meynell drew a long breath. Then he added, with a first sign of emotion--"And I may also count upon your doing henceforth what you can to protect that poor lady, Miss Puttenham, and her kinsfolk, from the consequences of this long persecution?" Barron made a sign of assent. Meynell left him to read and sign the public apology and retraction, which Flaxman had mainly drawn up; while the Rector himself took up a Bradshaw lying on the table, and walked to the window to consult it. "You will catch the 1.40," he said, as Barron rose from the writing-table. "Let me advise you to get him out of the country for a time." Barron said nothing. He came heavily toward the window, and the two men stood looking at each other, overtaken both of them by a mounting wave of consciousness. The events, passions, emotions of the preceding months pressed into memory, and beat against the silence. But it was Meynell who turned pale. "What a pity--to spoil the fight!" he said in a low voice. "It would have been splendid--to fight it--fair." "I shall of course withdraw my name from the Arches suit," said Barron, leaning over a chair, his eyes on the ground. Meynell did not reply. He took up his hat; only saying as he went toward the door: "Remember--Flaxman holds his hand entirely. The situation is with you." Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added simply, almost shyly--"God help you! Won't you consult your daughter?" Barron made no answer. The door opened and shut. BOOK IV MEYNELL AND MARY ".... but Life ere long Came on me in the public ways and bent Eyes deeper than of old; Death met I too, And saw the dawn glow through." CHAPTER XX