Miss Barrington smiled a little.  “Have I ever made you feel it here?”

“No,” said Winston gravely.  “Still, I am going to put your forbearance to a strenuous test.  I want your approval.  I have a question to ask your niece to-night.”

“If I withheld it?”

“It would hurt me,” said Winston.  “Still, I would not be astonished, and I could not blame you.”

“But it would make no difference?”

“Yes,” said Winston gravely.  “It would, but it would not cause me to desist.  Nothing would do that, if Miss Barrington can overlook the past.”

The little white-haired lady smiled at him.  “Then,” she said, “if it is any comfort to you, you have my good wishes.  I do not know what Maud’s decision will be, but that is the spirit which would have induced me to listen in times long gone by!”

She rose and left him, and it may have been by her arranging that shortly afterwards Winston found Maud Barrington passing through the dimly-lighted hall.  He opened the door she moved towards a trifle, and then stood facing her, with it in his hand.

“Will you wait a moment, and then you may pass if you wish,” he said.  “I had one great inducement for coming here to-night.  I wonder if you know what it is?”

The girl stood still and met his gaze, though, dim as the light was, the man could see the crimson in her cheeks.

“Yes,” she said, very quietly.

“Then,” said Winston, with a little smile, though the fingers on the door quivered visibly, “I think the audacity you once mentioned must have returned to me, for I am going to make a very great venture.”

For a moment Maud Barrington turned her eyes away.  “It is the daring venture that most frequently succeeds.”

Then she felt the man’s hand on her shoulder, and, that he was compelling her to look up at him.

“It is you I came for,” he said quietly.  “Still, for you know the wrong I have done, I dare not urge you, and have little to offer.  It is you who must give everything, if you can come down from your station and be content with mine.”

“One thing,” said Maud Barrington, very softly, “is, however, necessary.”

“That,” said Winston, “was yours ever since we spent the night in the snow.”

The girl felt his grip upon her shoulder grow almost painful, but her eyes shone softly when she lifted her head again.

“Then,” she said, “what I can give is yours—­and it seems you have already taken possession.”

Winston drew her towards him, and it may have been by Miss Barrington’s arranging that nobody entered the hall, but at last the girl glanced up at the man half-shyly as she said, “Why did you wait so long?”

“It was well worth while,” said Winston.  “Still, I think you know.”

“Yes,” said Maud Barrington softly.  “Now, at least, I can tell you I am glad you went away—­but if you had asked me I would have gone with you.”