Seized for an instant with an unreasoning fear--a belief that she had been able, after all, to penetrate his mind and read its dreadful secret, Morton sat irresolute, in the grasp of a blind despair, a palsy of the will. Clarke's dead hand seemed at the instant more powerful than the living man had been. This stupefaction lasted but a single second, for back to the young scientist's heart, like a swelling wave, came the red blood of his anger, his love, his mastering will. Rising swiftly but calmly, he caught her hands in his saying, gently: "You are forgetting your promise to me. Look at me. I want to see if you are really going to disobey my commands." She slowly raised her face to him, but only faintly responded to his voice. "I cannot permit this," he went on. "You have left this behind you, I will not permit you to give way. It is a kind of treason to me--your physician. For my sake you must put this weakness aside and assert your real self." He spoke gently, tenderly, as the lover, rather than as the man of science, and the mysterious power of his hand, the passionate pity of his eyes restored her to self-mastery, and she murmured: "Please forgive me. I didn't mean to do this." "I know that. But you must not invite your trouble. You laid your hands upon the table. You must not do that. I'll order you to eat off the mantel-piece, if you do that again," he added, with intent to make her smile. Mrs. Lambert, who had risen to go to Viola's relief, sank back into her seat with a sense of being forgotten at a time when she should have been her daughter's first thought. She was no longer necessary. Her place had been taken by another, a man and a stranger, hostile to her faith, and with this knowledge her heart grew cold and bitter with defeat and despair, the anguish and the neglect which are to be forevermore the darker side of the mother's glory had come to her at last with cruel force. The entire attack lasted but a few minutes, but it served to bring Viola nearer to her lover than all the hours of their more formal intercourse, though the full revelation of his true relationship was yet to come. She loved and trusted him, but as her friend, her defender. She rose at last to demonstrate that she was entirely herself again. "I am ashamed of myself," she said, humbly. "Please don't look so concerned." She turned to Kate. "I assure you it was only a little faintness. You see I didn't sleep very well last night." "Let's not try to go out," interposed Kate. "You're tired." "Oh no; please, _please_ don't let me spoil the evening. I will never forgive myself. Truly I want to go." Morton's glance instructed Kate, and she said: "Very well. We will go dress while the men finish their coffee. Come, Mrs. Lambert." Mrs. Lambert rose silently and the three women left the room together with an effect of haste.