and coming close to
her he took gently hold of her arm.

"But since I know," he protested, "what does it matter how I know? I
have known a long while, ever since Captain Willoughby came to The Pool
with the first feather. I waited to tell you that I knew until Harry
Feversham came back, and he came to-day."

Ethne sat down in her chair again. She was stunned by Durrance's
unexpected disclosure. She had so carefully guarded her secret, that to
realise that for a year it had been no secret came as a shock to her.
But, even in the midst of her confusion, she understood that she must
have time to gather up her faculties again under command. So she spoke
of the unimportant thing to gain the time.

"You were in the church, then? Or you heard us upon the steps? Or you
met--him as he rode away?"

"Not one of the conjectures is right," said Durrance, with a smile.
Ethne had hit upon the right subject to delay the statement of the
decision to which she knew very well that he had come. Durrance had his
vanities like others; and in particular one vanity which had sprung up
within him since he had become blind. He prided himself upon the
quickness of his perception. It was a delight to him to make discoveries
which no one expected a man who had lost his sight to make, and to
announce them unexpectedly. It was an additional pleasure to relate to
his puzzled audience the steps by which he had reached his discovery.
"Not one of your conjectures is right, Ethne," he said, and he
practically asked her to question him.

"Then how did you find out?" she asked.

"I knew from Trench that Harry Feversham would come some day, and soon.
I passed the church this afternoon. Your collie dog barked at me. So I
knew you were inside. But a saddled horse was tied up beside the gate.
So some one else was with you, and not any one from the village. Then I
got you to play, and that told me who it was who rode the horse."

"Yes," said Ethne, vaguely. She had barely listened to his words. "Yes,
I see." Then in a definite voice, which showed that she had regained all
her self-control, she said:--

"You went away to Wiesbaden for a year. You went away just after Captain
Willoughby came. Was that the reason why you went away?"

"I went because neither you nor I could have kept up the game of
pretences we were playing. You were pretending that you had no thought
for Harry Feversham, that you hardly cared whether he was alive or dead.
I was pretendin