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316 Charlie away from her, and yet made it necessary for Maud to see her?

Then, not so long after eleven, in spite of the fog, her maid came and said that Mrs. Lindsay was outside. And at the thought of Maud, who should presently come in, Maud who from the earliest days had been so true to her, so singly generous, shame, not of exposure, humiliation, but not because she was found out, at last must have touched Lucia a little, for hearing the step outside, she was not able to face her, but flung herself down on her sofa, burying her face in her hands. She heard the door open and shut, but still she could not look up; she felt Maud's presence near her, and presently on her shoulder she felt Maud's hand.

"Lucia, dear Lucia," she said. "I have come."

At that quiet, kind voice, once more Lucia wept. But she wept tears that had a little more than self-pity in them.

"I don't think I can bear it," she sobbed; "you had better go, I think. I didn't know it would be like this."

"But I have come to bear it with you," said Maud. "We have both got something to bear, and what you have to bear is so far worse."

Lucia got quieter after a while, and raised her tear-stained ft and looked at Maud for the first time.

"But what has happened to you?" she said. "You look white, so ill. You ought not to have come."

"I couldn't not come," said she. "As soon as I was able to come, I had to see you. But I was not able to come before; it would have done no good. But all that is over, I think—I pray God it is."

"All what?" asked Lucia.

"My anger, my—my hatred of you," said Maud quietly.

There was no use in doubting the simple sincerity of that. Bravely Maud tried to smile, but that was not quite in her power, for her mouth so trembled, and both sat silent again. Then Maud spoke.

"You want to know all that has happened," she said, "and I will tell you. You must give me time, though, for though tht is not much to say, it is difficult."

Again she paused.

"I have seen Charlie, of course," she said, "and he has told me everything. It was all his fault, he said, throughout. He told me how all along he made love to you, how—how before the end he fought and laughed at your scruples. He is sorry,