Lali turned towards Marion. Marion’s face was flushed, and had a sweet, happy confusion. With a low, trembling good-night to Captain Vidall, a hurried kiss on her mother’s cheek, and a tip-toed caress on her father’s head, she ran and linked her arm in Lali’s, and together they proceeded to the child’s room. Richard was there when they arrived, mending a broken toy. Two hours later, the brothers parted at Frank’s door. “Reaping the whirlwind, Dick?” Frank said, dropping his hand on his brother’s arm. Richard pointed to the child’s room. “Nonsense! Do you want all the world at once? You are reaping the forgiveness of your sins.” Somehow Richard’s voice was a little stern. “I was thinking of my devilry, Dick. That’s the whirlwind--here!” His hand dropped on his breast. “That’s where it ought to be. Good-night.” “Good-night.” CHAPTER XIII. A LIVING POEM Part of Frank’s most trying interview, next to the meeting with his wife, was that with Mackenzie, who had been his special commissioner in the movement of his masquerade. Mackenzie also had learned a great deal since she had brought Lali--home. She, like others, had come to care truly for the sweet barbarian, and served her with a grim kind of reverence. Just in proportion as this had increased, her respect for Frank had decreased. No man can keep a front of dignity in the face of an unbecoming action. However, Mackenzie had her moment, and when it was over, the new life began at no general disadvantage to Frank. To all save the immediate family Frank and Lali were a companionable husband and wife. She rode with him, occasionally walked with him, now and again sang to him, and they appeared in the streets of St. Albans and at the Abbey together, and oftener still in the village church near, where the Armours of many generations were proclaimed of much account in the solid virtues of tomb and tablet.