Pride seemed in some strange way to hallow her, to give an unimagined benignance to her eyes, an unearthly brightness to the smile upon her lips and the colour upon her cheeks.

So that Willoughby, looking at her, was carried out of himself.
"Yes," he cried, "you were the woman to plan this redemption." Ethne laughed again, and very happily.
"Did he tell you of a fourth white feather ?" she asked.
"No." "I shall tell you the truth," she said, as she resumed her seat.

"The plan was of his devising from first to last.

Nor did I encourage him to its execution.

For until to-day I never heard a word of it.