wife--Dacre's wife--had died just before his marriage to you. That also
came--too late."

He stopped again, and she knew that his head was bowed upon his arms
though she could not free her hand to touch it.

"You know the rest," he said, and his voice came to her oddly broken and
unfamiliar. "I kept it from you. I couldn't bear the thought of your
facing--that,--especially after--after the birth of--the child. Even
when you found out I had tricked you in that native rig-out, I couldn't
endure the thought of your knowing. I nearly killed myself that night.
It seemed the only way. But Bernard stopped me. I told him the truth.
He said I was wrong not to tell you. But--somehow--I couldn't."

"Oh, I wish--I wish you had," she breathed.

"Do you? Well,--I couldn't. It's hard enough to tell you now. You were
so wonderful, so beautiful, and they had flung mud at you from the
beginning. I thought I had made you safe, dear, instead of--dragging you
down."

"Everard!" Her voice was quick and passionate. She made a sudden effort
and freed one hand; but he caught it again sharply.

"No, you mustn't, Stella! I haven't finished. Wait!"

His voice compelled her; she submitted hardly knowing that she did so.

"It is over now," he said. "The fellow is dead. But, Stella,--he had
found out--what I had found out. And he was on his way to you. He meant
to--claim you."

She shuddered--a hard, convulsive shudder--as if some loathsome thing
had touched her. "But--I would never have gone back," she said.

"No," he answered grimly, "you wouldn't. I was here, and I should have
shot him. They saved me that trouble."

"You were--here!" she said.

"Yes,--much nearer to you than you imagined." Almost curtly he answered.
"Did you think I would leave you at the mercy of those devils? You!" He
stopped himself sharply. "No I was here to protect you--and I would
have done it--though I should have shot myself afterwards. Even Bernard
would have seen the force of that. But it didn't come to pass that way.
It wasn't intended that it should. Well, it is over. There are not many
who know--only Bernard, Tommy, and Ralston. They are going--if
possible--to keep it dark, to suppress his name. I told them they must."
His voice rang suddenly harsh, but softened again immediately. "That's
all, dear--or nearly all. I hope it hasn't shocked you unutterably. I
think the secret is safe anyhow, so you won't have--that--to face. I'm
going now. I'll send--Peter