“If I had induced her to fly with me,” thought Hal, and instinctively smote his breast.
Mark wrung his hand warmly.
“You have saved her,” he said; “from whom?”
“Mires,” replied Hal, laconically.
“And from myself,” he might have added.
Mark started in astonishment.
“From him?” he ejaculated. Then he said—“No matter whom—she is back safe again. You are pale and fagged; you must have some rest. I will hear you recount what has passed after you have risen in the morning.”
They separated; for Hal was only too glad to be alone—too glad to have the opportunity of making his acknowledgments of joy at having conquered his great temptation. And when he flung himself exhausted on his bed, Mark returned to his father’s room to find there Flora upon her knees in prayer, and ruthful, though silent, self-upbraiding.