looked at her for a moment or two in silence.

Then, "I know what you are going to say," he said.

She shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't, darling. It's something that'll
make you frightfully angry."

The faintest gleam of a smile crossed Merryon's face. "With you?" he
said.

She nodded, and suddenly her eyes were brimming with tears. "Yes, with
me."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "I tell you, I know what it is," he
said, with a certain stubbornness.

She turned her cheek for a moment to caress the hand; then suddenly all
her strength went from her. She sank down on the floor at his feet,
huddled together in a woeful heap, just as she had been on that first
night when the safety-curtain had dropped behind her.

"You'll never forgive me!" she sobbed. "But I knew--I knew--I always
knew!"

"Knew what, child?" He was stooping over her. His hand, trembling still
with weakness, was on her head. "But, no, don't tell me!" he said, and
his voice was deeply tender. "The fellow is dead, isn't he?"

"Oh, yes, he's dead." Quiveringly, between piteous sobs, she answered
him. "He--was dying before I reached him--that dreadful night. He
just--had strength left--to curse me! And I am cursed! I am cursed!"

She flung out her arms wildly, clasping his feet.

He stooped lower over her. "Hush--hush!" he said.

She did not seem to hear. "I let you take me--I stained your honour--I
wasn't a free woman. I tried to think I was; but in my heart--I always
knew--I always knew! I wouldn't have your love at first--because I knew.
And I came to you--that monsoon night--chiefly because--I wanted--when
he came after me--as I knew he would come--to force him--to set
me--free."

Through bitter sobbing the confession came; in bitter sobbing it ended.

But still Merryon's hand was on her head, still his face was bent above
her, grave and sad and pitiful, the face of a strong man enduring grief.

After a little, haltingly, she spoke again. "And I wasn't coming back to
you--ever. Only--someone--a _syce_--told me you had been stricken down.
And then I had to come. I couldn't leave you to die. That's all--that's
all! I'm going now. And I shan't come back. I'm not--your wife. You're
quite, quite free. And I'll never--bring shame on you--again."

Her straining hands tightened. She kissed, the feet she clasped. "I'm a
wicked, wicked woman," she said. "I was born--on the wrong side--of the
safety-curtain. That's no--excuse; only--to make you