They passed out of the billiard-room in silence. On their way to the drawing-room Morland murmured in a shamefaced way his apologia. He was just at the beginning of his electoral campaign. It was his own county. He was hand in glove with the duchess, sovereign lady of these parts, and she never forgave a scandal. “Besides,” he added, “to quote your own words, it would break Norma's heart.” Also, employing the limited vocabulary of his class and type, he reiterated the old assurance that he had not been a beast. He had done all that a man could to make amends. If Jimmie had not loved him so loyally, he would have seen something very pitiful in these excuses; but convinced that Morland had atoned as far as lay in his power for his fault, he trembled for the happiness of only those dear to him. Norma met them on the drawing-room landing. “I was coming down to see what had become of you,” she said. “I have been the culprit. I restore him to you,” laughed Jimmie. He entered the room and closed the door. The betrothed pair stood for a moment in an embarrassed silence. She laid a hesitating hand on his sleeve. “Morland--” she said diffidently. “I was really wanting to have a little talk with you. Somehow we don't often see one another.” Morland, surprised at the softness in her voice, led her back to the billiard-room. Chapter XII--NORMA'S ENLIGHTENMENT THE development of the germ of goodness in woman may be measured by her tendency towards self-sacrifice. Even the most selfish of her sex, provided she has some rudimentary virtues, hugs close to her bosom some pet little thorn which she loves to dig into her shrinking flesh. She enjoys some odd little mortification, some fantastic humiliation, that is known only to the inner chamber of her soul. Your great-hearted woman practises Suttee daily, greatly to the consternation of an observant yet unperceptive husband. Doubtless this characteristic has a sexual basis, psychological perhaps rather than directly physiological, being an instinctive assertion of the fundamental principle of passivity, which in its turn is translated into the need to be held down and subdued. Thus, if the man does not beat her, she will beat herself; if he is a fool, she will often apply caustic to her wisdom, so that she may reverence him; if he is a knave, she will choke her honesty. Side by side with the assertion of this principle, and indeed often inextricably confused with it, is the maternal impulse, which by manifold divergences from its primary manifestation causes women to find a joy, uncomprehended by men, in pangs of suffering. The higher the type the stronger the impulse towards this sweet self-martyrdom. Some such theory alone explains the softer tones in Norma's voice when she spoke to Morland. She had passed through two periods of sharp development--the half-hour in Scotland and the hours she had spent since her talk with Jimmie that afternoon. She acted blindly, obeying an imperative voice.