Toward morning a gentle knock fell at his door.  Lady Blandish glided in.  With hasty step she came straight to him, and took both his hands.

“My friend,” she said, speaking tearfully, and trembling, “I feared I should find you here.  I could not sleep.  How is it with you?”

“Well!  Emmeline, well!” he replied, torturing his brows to fix the mask.

He wished it had been Adrian who had come to him.  He had an extraordinary longing for Adrian’s society.  He knew that the wise youth would divine how to treat him, and he mentally confessed to just enough weakness to demand a certain kind of management.  Besides, Adrian, he had not a doubt, would accept him entirely as he seemed, and not pester him in any way by trying to unlock his heart; whereas a woman, he feared, would be waxing too womanly, and swelling from tears and supplications to a scene, of all things abhorred by him the most.  So he rapped the floor with his foot, and gave the lady no very welcome face when he said it was well with him.

She sat down by his side, still holding one hand firmly, and softly detaining the other.

“Oh, my friend! may I believe you?  May I speak to you?” She leaned close to him.  “You know my heart.  I have no better ambition than to be your friend.  Surely I divide your grief, and may I not claim your confidence?  Who has wept more over your great and dreadful sorrows?  I would not have come to you, but I do believe that sorrow shared relieves the burden, and it is now that you may feel a woman’s aid, and something of what a woman could be to you....”

“Be assured,” he gravely said, “I thank you, Emmeline, for your intentions.”

“No, no! not for my intentions!  And do not thank me.  Think of him...think of your dear boy...  Our Richard, as we have called him.—­Oh! do not think it a foolish superstition of mine, but I have had a thought this night that has kept me in torment till I rose to speak to you...  Tell me first you have forgiven him.”

“A father bears no malice to his son, Emmeline.”

“Your heart has forgiven him?”

My heart has taken what he gave.”

“And quite forgiven him?”

“You will hear no complaints of mine.”

The lady paused despondingly, and looked at him in a wistful manner, saying with a sigh, “Yes!  I know how noble you are, and different from others!”

He drew one of his hands from her relaxed hold.

“You ought to be in bed, Emmeline.”

“I cannot sleep.”

“Go, and talk to me another time.”

“No, it must be now.  You have helped me when I struggled to rise into a clearer world, and I think, humble as I am, I can help you now.  I have had a thought this night that if you do not pray for him and bless him...it will end miserably.  My friend, have you done so?”

He was stung and offended, and could hardly help showing it in spite of his mask.