de the
grisly head of Peter of Colfax; and upon the third finger was the great
ring she had tossed to Roger de Conde on that day, two years before.

What strange freak was her brain playing her! It could not be, no it was
impossible; then her glance fell again upon the head grinning there upon
the platter of gold, and upon the forehead of it she saw, in letters of
dried blood, that awful symbol of sudden death--NT!

Slowly her eyes returned to the ring upon the outlaw's hand, and then
up to his visored helm. A step she took toward him, one hand upon her
breast, the other stretched pointing toward his face, and she swayed
slightly as might one who has just arisen from a great illness.

"Your visor," she whispered, "raise your visor." And then, as though to
herself: "It cannot be; it cannot be."

Norman of Torn, though it tore the heart from him, did as she bid, and
there before her she saw the brave strong face of Roger de Conde.

"Mon Dieu!" she cried, "Tell me it is but a cruel joke."

"It be the cruel truth, My Lady Bertrade," said Norman of Torn sadly.
And, then, as she turned away from him, burying her face in her raised
arms, he came to her side, and, laying his hand upon her shoulder, said
sadly:

"And now you see, My Lady, why I did not follow you to France. My heart
went there with you, but I knew that naught but sorrow and humiliation
could come to one whom the Devil of Torn loved, if that love was
returned; and so I waited until you might forget the words you had
spoken to Roger de Conde before I came to fulfill the promise that you
should know him in his true colors.

"It is because I love you, Bertrade, that I have come this night. God
knows that it be no pleasant thing to see the loathing in your very
attitude, and to read the hate and revulsion that surges through your
heart, or to guess the hard, cold thoughts which fill your mind against
me because I allowed you to speak the words you once spoke, and to the
Devil of Torn.

"I make no excuse for my weakness. I ask no forgiveness for what I know
you never can forgive. That, when you think of me, it will always be
with loathing and contempt is the best that I can hope.

"I only know that I love you, Bertrade; I only know that I love you, and
with a love that surpasseth even my own understanding.

"Here is the ring that you gave in token of friendship. Take it. The
hand that wore it has done no wrong by the light that has been given it
as guide.