“I've come,” she began, and with those words she lost her fright; her voice, that had been so uncertain hitherto, regained its trick of speech; her eyes, all pupil, stared dark and gentle at this man who had them all in his power--“I've come to tell you something, Captain Bellew!” The figure by the hearth bowed, and her fright, like some evil bird, came guttering down on her again. It was dreadful, it was barbarous that she, that anyone, should have to speak of such things; it was barbarous that men and women should so misunderstand each other, and have so little sympathy and consideration; it was barbarous that she, Margery Pendyce, should have to talk on this subject that must give them both such pain. It was all so mean and gross and common! She took out her handkerchief and passed it over her lips. “Please forgive me for speaking. Your wife has given my son up, Captain Bellew!” Bellew did not move. “She does not love him; she told me so herself! He will never see her again!” How hateful, how horrible, how odious! And still Bellew did not speak, but stood devouring her with his little eyes; and how long this went on she could not tell. He turned his back suddenly, and leaned against the mantelpiece. Mrs. Pendyce passed her hand over her brow to get rid of a feeling of unreality. “That is all,” she said. Her voice sounded to herself unlike her own. '.f that is really all,' she thought, 'I suppose I must get up and go!' And it flashed through her mind: 'My poor dress will be ruined!' Bellew turned round. “Will you have some tea?” Mrs. Pendyce smiled a pale little smile. “No, thank you; I don't think I could drink any tea.” “I wrote a letter to your husband.” “Yes.” “He didn't answer it.” “No.” Mrs. Pendyce saw him staring at her, and a desperate struggle began within her. Should she not ask him to keep his promise, now that George----? Was not that what she had come for? Ought she not--ought she not for all their sakes? Bellew went up to the table, poured out some whisky, and drank it off. “You don't ask me to stop the proceedings,” he said. Mrs. Pendyce's lips were parted, but nothing came through those parted lips. Her eyes, black as sloes in her white face, never moved from his; she made no sound. Bellew dashed his hand across his brow. “Well, I will!” he said, “for your sake. There's my hand on it. You're the only lady I know!” He gripped her gloved fingers, brushed past her, and she saw that she was alone. She found her own way out, with the tears running down her face. Very gently she shut the hall door. '.y poor dress!' she thought. 'I wonder if I might stand here a little? The rain looks nearly over!'