“Has it made all life seem very different to you?” he asked.

Dion acknowledged that it had.

“I was half frightened at the thought of the change which was coming,” he said.  “We were so very happy as we were, you see.”

The Canon’s intense gray eyes shot a glance at him, which he felt rather than saw, in the evening twilight.

“I hope you’ll be even happier now.”

“It will be a different sort of happiness now.”

“I think children bind people together more often than not.  There are cases when it’s not so, but I don’t think yours is likely to be one of them.”

“Oh, no.”

“Is it a good-looking baby?”

“No, really it’s not.  Even Rosamund thinks that.  D’you know, so far she’s marvelously reasonable in her love.”

“That’s splendid,” said Canon Wilton, with a strong ring in his voice.  “An unreasonable love is generally a love with something rotten at its roots.”

Dion stood still.

“Oh, is that true really?”

The Canon paused beside him.  They were in Eaton Square, opposite to St. Peter’s.

“I think so.  But I hate anything that approaches what I call mania.  Religious mania, for instance, is abhorrent to me, and, I should think, displeasing to God.  Any mania entering into a love clouds that purity which is the greatest beauty of love.  Mania—­it’s detestable!”

He spoke almost with a touch of heat, and put his hand on Dion’s shoulder.

“Beware of it, my boy.”

“Yes.”

They walked on, talking of other things.  A few minutes before they parted they spoke of Mrs. Clarke.

“Did you know her before to-day?” asked the Canon.

“No.  I’d never even seen her.  How dreadful for her to have to face such a case.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“The fact that she’s innocent gives her a great pull, though.  I realized what a pull when I was having a talk with her.”

“I don’t know much about the case,” was all that the Canon said.  “I hope justice will be done in it when it comes on.”

Dion thought that there was something rather implacable in his voice.

“I don’t believe Mrs. Clarke doubts that.”

“Did she say so?” asked Canon Wilton.

“No.  But I felt that she expected to win—­almost knew she would win.”

“I see.  She has confidence in the result.”

“She seems to have.”

“Women often have more confidence in difficult moments than we men.  Well, here I must leave you.”

He held out his big, unwavering hand to Dion.

“Good-by.  God bless you both, and the child, whether it’s plain or not.  One good thing’s added to us when we start rather ill-favored; the chance of growing into something well-favored.”

He gripped Dion’s hand and walked slowly, but powerfully, away.

CHAPTER IV