A gauzy scarf which she had carried when she entered the room had fallen to the floor. He stooped and picked it up, and stood looking at it, running it through his hands, his head bent. It was white and sheer, a mere gossamer--he must have stepped on it, for in one place it was torn, in another slightly soiled. Sylvia, watching him, holding her breath, could see the muscles of his white face growing tenser and tenser around his set mouth, and still he did not glance at her or speak to her. At last he unfolded it to its full size, and wrapped it about her, his eyes giving her the smile which his lips could not. "Nothing matters to me in the whole world either--except you," he said brokenly. "I think these last few--dreadful days--have shown us both how much we need each other, and that the memory of them will keep us closer together all our lives. If there's any question of forgiveness between us, it's all on my side now, not yours, and I don't think I can--talk about it now. But I'll never forget how you came to me to-night, and, please God, some day I'll be more worthy of--of your love and--and your _trust_ than I've shown myself now. Until I am--" He stopped, and, lifting her arm, kissed the bruise which his own roughness had made there. "What can I do--to make that better?" he managed to say. "It didn't hurt--much--before--and it's all healed--now," she said, smiling up at him; "didn't your mother ever 'kiss the place to make it well' when you were a little boy, and didn't it always work like a charm? It won't show at all, either, under my glove." "Your glove?" he asked stupidly; and then, suddenly remembering what he had entirely forgotten--"Oh--we were going to a ball together. You came to tell me you would, after all. But surely you won't want to now--" "Why not? We can take the motor--we won't be so very late--the others went in the carryall, you know." He drew a long breath, and looked away from her. "All right," he said at last. "Go downstairs and get your cloak, if you left it there. I'll be with you in a minute." She obeyed, without a word, but waited so long that she grew alarmed, and finally, unable to endure her anxiety any longer, she went back upstairs. Austin's door was open into the hall, but it was dark in his room, and, genuinely frightened, she groped her way towards the electric switch. In doing so she stumbled against the bed, and her hand fell on Austin's shoulder. He was kneeling there, his whole body shaking, his head buried in his arms. Instantly she was on her knees beside him. "My darling boy, what is it? Austin, _don't_! You'll break my heart." "The marvel is--if I haven't--just now. I told your uncle that I was afraid I would some time--that I knew I hadn't any right to you. But I didn't think--that even I was bad enough--to fail you--like _this_--"