A flush of pleasure arose in Yvonne’s cheeks, and her eyes thanked him. Then she reflected, and said somewhat sadly:-- “Perhaps if you help him in that way, he won’t miss me.” “I will guarantee his prosperity,” he answered, with dignified conviction. And then, changing his manner, after a pause, and leaning forward and looking at her hungeringly, “Yvonne,” he said, “you will come and share my life again--in a new world, where everything is beautiful--? I have been growing old there, without you. You will make me young again, and the blessing of God will be upon us. I must have you with me, Yvonne. I cannot live in peace without your smile and your happiness around me. My child--” His voice grew thick with emotion. He stood up and stretched out his arms to her. Yvonne rose timidly and advanced toward him, drawn by his pleading. But just as his hands were about to touch her, she hung back. “You must ask Stephen for me,” she said, in her serious, simple way. His hands fell to his sides, in a gesture of impatience. “Impossible. How can I do such a thing? It would be absurd.” “But I can’t,” she said. Her tiny figure, the plaintiveness of her upturned face, the wistfulness of her soft eyes, brought back to him a flood of memories. She was still the same sweet, innocent soul. The lines about his lips relaxed into a smile, and he took her, yielding passively, into his arms and kissed her cheek. “I will do what you like, dear,” he said, in a low voice. “Anything in the world to win you again. I will ask him. It will be making reparation. And then you will marry me?” “Yes,” murmured Yvonne faintly, “I promised you.” “Why did you not write to me again?” he asked, still holding her hands. “I was going to write when the answer came,” she said, looking down. “But no answer did come. And then, I was content to help Stephen.” “You could have helped Stephen, all the same.” “Oh, no!” she cried, with a swift look upwards. “Don’t you understand?” The Bishop saw the delicacy of the point, and motioned an affirmative. But he regarded Stephen with mingled feelings. It was intensely repugnant to him to find his once reprobated cousin a barrier between himself and Yvonne. An uneasy suspicion passed through his mind. Might not Stephen be even a more serious rival? “You are not marrying me merely on account of that promise years ago, Yvonne?” he asked. “Oh, no, Everard,” she replied gently. “It is because you want me--and because it’s right.” He kissed her good-bye. “I shall not visit you here again, Yvonne,” he said. “When I receive the final answer I shall make suitable arrangements. We shall be married quietly, by special licence. Will that please you?” “Yes,” said Yvonne. “Thank you.”