He seemed to himself to have betrayed the second untruth by his way of speaking it.

In the silence which followed upon her words he heard promptings of despair.

How could he live in her presence from day to day, not daring to meet her eyes?
He looked back upon the years behind him, and they seemed to overflow with peaceful happiness.

Irretrievable, his yielding and his shame; irrecoverable, the conscious rectitude bartered so cheaply.

He saw now that his life had held vast blessings, and they were for ever lost.
Emily was speaking.
'Do you wish to stay here this evening, father ?' 'No,' he answered hastily, 'I only called you up for--for that.' Her heart reproached her with cruelty, but what remained save to leave him to himself?
They could not face each other, could not exchange a natural word.
'Emily!' She turned at the door.