and he
surely did not understand this one--for it seemed as if a fire leaped
up within her, and she spoke almost wildly.

"Because I would atone for all my past," she said, "and cleanse myself
with unceasing mercies, and what I cannot undo, do penance for--that I
may be worthy--worthy."

She broke off and drew her hand across her eyes, and ended with a
strange little sound, half laugh.

"Perhaps all men and women have been evil," she said, "and some
are--some seem fated! And when my lord Duke comes back, I shall be
happy--happy--in spite of all; and I scarce dare to think my joy may
not be taken from me. Is joy _always_ torn away after it has been
given to a human thing--given for just so long, as will make loss,
madness?"

"Eh, my lady!" he said, blundering, "thou art fearful, just as another
woman might be. 'Tis not like Clo Wildairs. Such thoughts will not make
thee a happy woman."

She ended with a laugh stranger than her first one, and her great black
eyes were fixed on him as he had remembered seeing her fix them when
she was a child and full of some wild fancy or weird sadness.

"'Tis not Clo Wildairs who thinks them," says she; "'tis another woman.
'Twas Clo who knew John Oxon who is gone--and was as big a sinner as
he, though she did harm to none but herself. And 'tis for those
two--for both--I would have mercy. But I am a strong thing, and was
born so, and my happiness will not die, despite--despite whatsoever
comes. And I _am_ happy, and know I shall be more; and 'tis for that I
am afraid--afraid."

"Good Lord!" cried Sir Chris, swallowing a lump which rose, he knew not
why, in his throat. "What a strange creature thou art!"

His Grace's couriers went back and forth to France, and upon his
estates the people prepared their rejoicings for the marriage-day, and
never had Camylott been so heavenly fair as on the day when the bells
rang out once more, and the villagers stood along the roadside and at
their cottage doors, courtesying and throwing up hats and calling down
God's blessings on the new-wed pair, as the coach passed by, and his
Grace, holding his lady's hand, showed her to his people, seeming to
give her and her loveliness to them as they bowed and smiled
together--she almost with joyful tears in her sweet eyes.

In her room near the nurseries, at the window which looked out among
the ivy, Nurse Halsell sat, watching the equipage as it made its way up
the long avenue, and might be seen now