suddenly, her hands outstretched.

"I wronged you!" she cried. "I wronged you. I thought the disgrace was
yours. Oh, do not speak!" she added, passionately. "I have suffered
for it--and now, would you mind--please--leaving me?"

"You thought the disgrace was mine!" he repeated, slowly. "Not my"--he
broke off abruptly. "And you suffered--for it?" he said, wonderingly.
"Then you--" He arose quickly and approached her, a new expression
transfiguring his bronzed and worn young face.

Swiftly he sought her glance; her eyes gave irrefutable answer.
Unresistingly, she abandoned herself to his arms, and he felt her
bosom rise and fall with conflicting emotions. Closely he held her, in
the surprise and surpassing pleasure of the moment; then, bending, he
kissed her lips. A wave of color flooded her face, though her eyes
still sought his. But even as he regarded her, the clear, open look
gradually changed, replaced by one of half-perplexity, half-reproach.

"That night you went away--why did you not defend yourself?" she
asked, finally.

"I never imagined--any mistake. Besides, what had I to offer? Your
future was bright; your name, on every one's lips!"

"Did you think you were responsible for another's sins?"

His dark features clouded.

"I suppose I had become accustomed to cold looks. In Africa, by some
of my comrades who had an inkling of the story! No matter what I did,
I was his brother! And the bitterest part was that I loved him; loved
him from my boyhood! He was the handsomest, most joyous fellow! Even
when he died in my arms in Mexico my heart could not absolutely turn
from him."

[Illustration]

She opened her lips as if to speak, but the shadow on his face kept
her silent.

"I was weak enough to keep the story from you in the first place--a
foolish reticence, for these matters follow a man to the ends of the
world."

"Oh," she said, "to think it was I who made you feel this!"

He took her hand; his grasp hurt her fingers; yet she did not shrink.

"You showed me a new world," he answered, quickly. "Not the world I
expected to find--where life would hold little of joy or zest--but a
magical world; a beautiful world; yours!"

She half-hung her head. "But then--then--"

"It became a memory; bitter-sweet; yet more sweet than bitter!"

"And now?"

He did not answer immediately.

The figure of the count, as he had seen him the night before, had
abruptly entered his mind. Did she understand? She smi