‘Come along in, Mums.’ Drawing her forward he closed the door behind her. ‘Read that!’ He thrust a faintly scented sheet of note-paper into her hand, and she obeyed. Bel’s communication was brief, moving, and very much to the point. ‘Are you generous enough to forgive me—and come to me?’ she wrote without preamble. ‘If you can keep it up—_I can’t_. I saw and heard you at Ardmuir. You are _brave_. As for me, I’m bitterly sorry and ashamed. I hate it all still. But if you wish it, I am yours—unconditionally, BEL. I shall be alone here after 10.30. I can’t face Inveraig.’ Lady Forsyth had to read that note more than once before she could feel sure of her voice. To her it seemed studied, consciously written for effect: and the writing itself was equally studied, with the same touch of hardness in it that showed in the level line of eyelids and brows. ‘Well?’ Mark was growing impatient. ‘You _can_ forgive her?’ she asked, looking steadily up at him. ‘Of course I can. And you must too. She’s sorry. She—cares. Isn’t that enough for anyone?’ ‘But she’s not convinced.’ ‘_I’ll_ convince her, in time. I hope she’ll come south with us to-morrow.’ Lady Forsyth drew in her lips and at once his hands came down on her shoulders. ‘Look here, Mums, I _won’t_ have you antagonising and doubting her any more—after this. It spoils everything. You might make an effort if only for my sake. It’s beyond belief getting her back; and your attitude’s the only flaw in my happiness. Has been all along.’ She was silent a minute, then she put her two hands on his breast. ‘Dear, I will make an effort for your sake. I refuse to be the flaw in your happiness! It’s a degrading position for a mother.’ He stooped and kissed her for the first time since Wednesday morning. ‘Bless you!’ he said. ‘Good-night.’ Alone in her room, confronting this new, unwelcome development, she realised how, through all the pain of his grief, she had been upheld by the secret conviction that his loss was gain; some day he would know it. Now the old miserable uncertainty was nagging at her afresh. In her heart, she distrusted the sincerity of the whole incident. But she had given her word to Mark, and Bel should have the benefit of all the doubts in creation. * * * * * Mark’s watch was three minutes short of the half-hour when he stood outside the square grey house perched on the hillside above the road. A white curtain fluttered; and a glimpse of Bel’s face signified that the coast was clear. When he entered the homely sitting-room and closed the door she did not run to meet him as a simpler woman would have done. She remained standing near the mantelpiece on the farther side of the square table, smiling her cool provocative smile. ‘Mark!’ she said softly. ‘I’ve been wondering and wondering would you really come?’ By that time the square table was no longer between them and Mark was holding her as if he could never let her go.