The Reckoning. Robert W. Chambers

me that the setting sun swam in my eyes and the blood dinned in ears and brain as though to burst them. At such moments, which are rare with me, I fall silent; and so I stood, while the strange rage shook me, and passed, leaving me cold and very quiet.

      "I think we had best go," I said.

      She held out her hand. I aided her to rise; and she kept my hand in hers, laying the other over it, and looked up into my eyes.

      "Forgive me, Carus," she whispered. "No man can be more gallant and more sweet than you."

      "Forgive me, Elsin. No maid so generous and just as you."

      And that was all, for we crossed the street, and I mounted the stoop of our house with her, and bowed her in when the great door opened.

      "Are you not coming in?" she asked, lingering in the doorway.