She walked towards the door, but he reached it first and laid his hand upon the latch. "You are going away," he said. "Who knows when we shall ever meet again. At least remember that I condemn myself as sharply as you can." "That is the degradation of it," was her retort, her eyes blazing at him. "If you could plead ignorance, I could pity you." "Edith is a saint," he went on, not heeding, "but her good is my evil. I do not plead it as an excuse; I have and I want no excuse: but it is true that temptation could come to me in no shape so insidious as through her sincerity." "Then you will be honest!" pleaded Helen. "I do not say that. I think I shall go on as I am; but I have changed my idea of my epitaph. It shall be only the word 'Pardon.'" "Your old one was better," she retorted stingingly, "and better than either would be a blank! Let me pass!" XXXVII. FAREWELL AT ONCE, FOR ONCE, FOR ALL AND EVER. Richard II.; ii.--2. The outward bound steamer was almost ready to sail, and all the bustle attendant upon departure of an ocean craft eddied about three people who stood in a half-sheltered nook upon the wharf. They were saying little. Both Grant Herman and Ninitta kept their eyes fixed upon Helen, while her glance was cast to the ground, save when she raised her head in speaking. The Italian from time to time took Helen's hand in hers and kissed it fondly. "I pray the Madonna for you every night," she whispered in her native tongue, "that she will give you a safe voyage." The sculptor watched all that went on about them, waiting with some inward impatience for the moment when the duty of escorting Mrs. Greyson on board would give him an opportunity of being a moment alone with her. "We shall miss you much," he said, feeling that any thing would be better than the silence which hedged them in amid the noisy bustle of the throng. "We shall not soon fill your place, shall we, Ninitta?" He did not listen to the eager answer; his eyes were fixed upon Helen's face, and for her alone he had ears. "Yes," he said again with nervous platitude, when once more they had lapsed into the silence he found it so hard to bear; "neither my wife nor myself has any friend to take your place." Some faint accent in the tone in which he referred to his three hours' bride made the widow look up suddenly. To the question in her eyes his glance gave no answer, and for the moment a feeling of despair overcame her. Had she given him up only to the end that his life should be miserable; had she forced him into a marriage whose bonds would gall and chafe him with more deadly and festering wounds as time went on?