|My dear Agnes,” he cried, before he had more than entered the room. “My dear Agnes. I only heard this afternoon of the heroic way you behaved on that day--that terrible day when those fools made the run upon the bank. I have come to thank you. Why on earth I was not told of that incident the day I arrived, I am at a loss to know. I don't think that the bank can boast of much intelligence. At any rate, I know now that you saved us--you saved us from--well, the cashier says the doors of the bank would have been closed inside half an hour if you had not appeared so opportunely. How can I ever thank you sufficiently?” She looked at him. He failed to notice within her eyes a strange light. He could not know that she had heard nothing of his speech. “Yes, I repeat that we owe all to you,” he went on. “I'm sure that poor Dick felt it deeply. And Sir Percival Hope--it was his cheque, the cashier told me; and yet he didn't say a word to me about it when I called upon him a few days ago. But how on earth did you raise the money? Perhaps--I don't know--should I congratulate you--and him? Yes, certainly, and him.” “I beg your pardon,” she said. “I was wondering--ah, these things sometimes do occur--I mean--Is it possible that you intend to remain at the Court during the winter? Surely your doctors will not allow it. You will go abroad.” “I see that you evade my question,” said he, with a laugh. “There is no reason why you should do so. I think Hope a very good chap, especially since I have heard that it was his cheque. And I said in my letters to Dick that I supposed you had got married long ago.” “I'm afraid that I have not been paying sufficient attention to what you are saying. Sir Percival Hope?--you mentioned Sir Percival,” said Agnes. “Heavens! I have been wasting my compliments--you have been thinking of something else.” “I wonder if you have learned to forgive as well as to forget,” said she. “What on earth do you mean?” he cried. “You are a trifle distraite, are you not? What has forgiving or forgetting to do with what I have been saying?” “The wretched man--I was thinking of him. You have forgotten a good deal of the past that others have remembered, but forgiveness--that is different.” “Do you mean to ask me if my feelings are unchanged in respect of that ruffian--that wretch who killed the best man that ever lived in the world? If that is your question I can answer you. I stand here and tell you that no night passes without my cursing him and all that belongs to him. If he has a brother--if he has a wife--if he has a child--may they all suffer what”-- “No, no, no, no; for God's sake, don't say those words, Claude. You do not know what they mean. You cannot know.” She had sprung from her chair and had caught the hand which he had clenched fiercely as he spoke.