They were passing her house, but neither paused. His passion had led him to disclose his knowledge of her secret, and her heart was gripped in a sudden fear. For the moment, it seemed to her that all Warwick must know, that the fact she now desired to conceal was common property, to be to-morrow the wonder of the town. "See how deserted the street is," he said. "It is as if you and I were walking alone in the world, and who can tell when we shall be alone again?" Presently he paused and faced her. She stood looking up at him, her face, framed by the gathered edge of her crimson hood, ethereally beautiful in the full moonlight. "Do you know how a man feels when he loves you, Felicity?" he demanded. It was the first time he had ever addressed her by that name, but she accepted it without protest, waiting with parted lips for his next words. "How can you be so quiet?" he went on passionately. "It is n't possible that you can be as cruel as you seem! Why did n't you treat me brutally at the very first, and give me my answer before I was such a fool as to ask the question? That would have been kindness. But you let me hope, I don't know why, perhaps because you wanted to use me, perhaps to feed your vanity. Just now I hardly know what I am saying to you; but don't think that I shall be one of your victims. You owe me something, Felicity, some memory to carry with me the rest of my life. That at least I will have, even if I must pay for it by never seeing you again." Before she could forestall his intention, he had drawn her into his arms. Her hand faltered in a vain effort against his breast, and she was lost. She leaned against him helplessly. "There," he said, kissing her once and again, "now you know how I love you." They stood apart, trembling. In his eyes shone a mournful triumph, while her indignation was rendered speechless by a full knowledge of her responsibility for the act. She could have averted it, had she wished. "I did not dream," he said at last, as if speaking to himself alone, "that a woman could be so sweet." "Have you forgotten that I am"--She could not frame the word that hovered on her lips, nor maintain the dignity for which she strove against the suffocating tumult of joy that rioted in her heart. "Your husband gave me his confidence," he answered bitterly. "You see how well I deserved it." "Then you realise what you have done." There was a note of finality in her voice, and, turning slowly, she began to retrace her steps. She was unconscious of the fact that they were walking close together until the sound of a carriage overtaking them caused her to draw away instinctively and to glance with apprehension at the roadway. The vehicle passed within a few feet of the curb, and the bishop leaned forward with a look of recognition. "Father has been to the reception," she said. "I must go in now." "There is so much I want to say," he protested.