ashes are left. The fires have burnt out. You've heard
what I suppose they call my story, so you know why. If those fires
weren't dead, I shouldn't have dared trust myself to risk this talk with
you. As it is--I let your eyes call me back. Not that they called
consciously. It was the past that called----"

"They _would_ have called consciously if you'd given them time!" I
ventured to smile at him, with a look that asked for kindness. He did
not smile back, but he did not frown. His deep-set eyes, in their hollow
sockets, gazed at me as if they were memorizing each feature.

"You're lovelier than ever, Mary," he said. "There's something different
about your face. You've suffered."

"My brother is blind."

"Ah! There's more than that."

"Yes."

"You loved the son of these rich people the girl told me about? She says
you didn't love him, but she's wrong--isn't she?"

"She's wrong. She knows about things I've done, but nothing about what I
think or feel. I did love Jim Beckett, Doctor Paul. You don't mind being
called by the old name? I've learned how it hurts to love."

"That will do you no harm, Mary. I can speak with you about such things
now, for the spirit of a dead woman stands between us. I didn't love her
when she was alive. But if I hadn't married her and brought her to
France she'd be living now. She died through me--and for me. I think of
her with immense tenderness and--a kind of loyalty; a fierce loyalty. I
don't know if you understand."

"Indeed I do! I almost envy her that brave death."

"We won't talk of her any more now," Herter said with a sigh. "I've a
feeling she wouldn't like us to discuss her, together. She used to
be--jealous of you, poor girl! There are other things I wanted to say.
The first--but you've guessed it already!--is this: the minute I looked
into your face, there in the hospice, I forgave you the pain you made me
suffer. In the first shock of meeting your eyes, I didn't realize that
I'd forgiven. It wasn't till I'd slammed the door that I knew."

I didn't repeat that I had not purposely done anything which needed
forgiveness. I only looked at him with all the kindness and pity in my
heart, and waited until he should go on.

"The second thing I wanted to say is, that just the one look told me you
weren't happy and gay as you used to be. When I'd shut the door, I could
still see you clearly, as if I had the power to look through the wood. I
said to myself, that girl's eyes hav