Aimable, and from day to day learned all that happened to Guida. As of
old, without her knowledge, he did many things for her through the same
Maitresse Aimable. And it quickly came to be known in the island that
any one who spoke ill of Guida in his presence did so at no little
risk. At first there had been those who marked him as the wrongdoer, but
somehow that did not suit with the case, for it was clear he loved Guida
now as he had always done; and this the world knew, as it had known that
he would have married her all too gladly. Presently Detricand and Philip
were the only names mentioned, but at last, as by common consent, Philip
was settled upon, for such evidence as there was pointed that way. The
gossips set about to recall all that had happened when Philip was in
Jersey last. Here one came forward with a tittle of truth, and there
another with tattle of falsehood, and at last as wild a story was
fabricated as might be heard in a long day.

But in bitterness Guida kept her own counsel.

This day when she passed the undertaker's shop she had gone to visit the
grave of her grandfather. He had died without knowing the truth, and her
heart was hardened against him who had brought misery upon her. Reaching
the cottage in the Place du Vier Prison now, she took from a drawer
the letter Philip had written her on the day he first met the Comtesse
Chantavoine. She had received it a week ago. She read it through slowly,
shuddering a little once or twice. When she had finished, she drew paper
to her and began a reply.

The first crisis of her life was passed. She had met the shock of utter
disillusion; her own perfect honesty now fathomed the black dishonesty
of the man she had loved. Death had come with sorrow and unmerited
shame. But an innate greatness, a deep courage supported her. Out of her
wrongs and miseries now she made a path for her future, and in that path
Philip's foot should never be set. She had thought and thought, and had
come to her decision. In one month she had grown years older in mind.
Sorrow gave her knowledge, it threw her back on her native strength and
goodness. Rising above mere personal wrongs she grew to a larger sense
of womanhood, to a true understanding of her position and its needs. She
loved no longer, but Philip was her husband by the law, and even as she
had told him her whole mind and heart in the days of their courtship and
marriage, she would tell him her whole mind and heart now.