ys himself that everything was true."

"Everything probably is true. But then, the point is that you don't know
the whole truth, or even half of it. That's just what he couldn't tell
you. I should have told you. That's where I bungled it. You know he left
it to me; he said I was to tell you."

"Yes, he told me that. He didn't mean to deceive me."

"No more did I. If my brother had been a bad man, dear, do you suppose
for a moment I'd have let him marry my dearest friend?"

"You didn't know. We don't know these things, Edith. That's the terrible
part of it."

"Yes, it's the terrible part of it. But _I_ knew all right. He never kept
anything from me, not for long."

"But, Edith--how _could_ he? How _could_ he? When the woman--Lady
Cayley--She was _bad_, wasn't she?"

"Of course she was bad. Bad as they make them--worse. You know she was
divorced?"

"Yes," said Anne, "that's what I do know."

"Well, she wasn't divorced on Walter's account, my dear. There were
several others--four, five, goodness knows how many. Poor Walter was a
mere drop in her ocean."

Anne stared a moment at the expanse presented to her.

"But," said she, "he was in it."

"Oh yes, he was in it. The ocean swallowed him as it swallowed the
others. But it couldn't keep him. He couldn't live in it, like them."

"But how did she get hold of him?"

"She got hold of him by appealing to his chivalry."

(His chivalry--she knew it.)

"It's what happens, over and over again. He thought her a vilely injured
woman. He may have thought her good. He certainly thought her pathetic.
It was the pathos that did it."

"That--did--it?"

"Yes. Did it. She hurled herself at his head--at his knees--at his
feet---till he _had_ to lift her. And that's how it happened."

Anne's spirit writhed as she contemplated the happening.

"I know it oughtn't to have happened. I know Walter wasn't the holy saint
he ought to have been. But oh, he was a martyr!" She paused. "And--he was
very young."

"Edith--when was it?"

"Seven years ago."

Anne pondered. The seven years helped to purify him. Every day helped
that threw the horror further back in time--separated it from her. If--if
he had not been steeped too long in it. She wanted to know _how_ long,
but she was afraid to ask; afraid lest it should be brought nearer to her
than she could bear. Edith saw her fear.

"It lasted two years. It was all my fault."

"Your fault?"

"Yes, my fault. Because of my hor