“Jack, you mustn’t,” I said wildly.

“But I must,” he returned firmly.  “You have quarrelled over me.  I could not cross the water leaving you in an unsettled condition like this.”

He came swiftly to my side, and took my hands firmly in his.

“Margaret, remember this, if I die or live, all I am and all I have is at your service.  If I die there will be enough, thank heaven, to make you independent of any one.  If I live—­”

He hesitated for a long moment, then stooped closer to me.

“This may be a caddish thing to do, but it is borne in upon me that I ought to tell you this before I go.  I hope the settling of this quarrel will be the beginning of a happier life for you.  But if things should ever get really unbearable in your life, bad enough for divorce, I mean, remember that the dearest wish of my life would be fulfilled if I could call you wife.  Good-by, Margaret.  God bless and keep you.”

I felt the touch of his lips against my hair.

Then he released me and went quickly out of the room.

It was hard work for me to obey Mrs. Stewart’s command to eat the supper that she soon brought me on a tray.  Every nerve was tense in anticipation of the meeting between Dicky and Jack, which I could not avoid, and which I so dreaded.  What was happening at my home while I sat here, my hands tied by my own foolish act?

I did not realize that Mrs. Stewart’s suspense was also intense until the door bell rang and she ran to answer it.

I stole to the door and noiselessly opened it just enough to be able to hear the voices in the lower hall.  I heard the hall door open and then a sound of a voice that sent me back to my chair breathless with terrified happiness.

Dicky had arrived!

He ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, and knocked at the door of the room in which I sat.

“Come in,” I said faintly.

I felt as if my feet were shod with lead.  Much as I loved him, great as was my joy at seeing him, I could no more have stirred from where I was sitting than I could have taken wings and flown to him.

There was no need for my moving, however.  Dicky has the most abominable temper of any person I know, but he is as royal in his repentance as in his rages.

He crossed the room at almost a bound, his eyes shining, his face aglow, his whole handsome figure vibrant with life and love.

“Sweetheart! sweetheart!” he murmured, as he folded me in his arms,” will you forgive your bad boy this once more?  I have been a jealous, insulting brute, but I swear to you—­”

I put up my hand and covered his lips.  I had heard him say something like this too many times before to have much faith in his oath.  Besides, there is something within me that makes me abhor anything which savors of a scene.  Dicky was mine again, my old, impulsive, kingly lover.  I wanted no promises which I knew would be made only to be broken.