Charred Wood

"My niece," he had said. "She's a winsome little thing. I miss her sorely."

He recalled, too, how someone had related the romance of Edgar Atheson, who had later become Grand Duke of Ecknor. Donald Murray had been strangely silent, he remembered. And--yes, it was just after that that the picture had disappeared from his desk. "It is best," had been Donald Murray's only comment.

The Bishop remembered now. And he knew why Monsignore had looked so surprised and reproachful when asked to give his "full" confidence regarding Ruth Atheson. He understood, now, the meaning of the quiet, "My Lord, there are some things I cannot discuss even with you."

The Bishop bowed his head. "Blind, blind," he murmured, "to have known so much, to have understood so little. Can you ever forgive me, my friend?"