wrapped in his arms, yet there was no
feeling of guilt in his heart at that moment, and he knew that Cassandra
herself felt equally guiltless. The overpowering forces of nature had
hurled them together, and they clung helplessly, like two children,
dismayed by the dark.

"Dane! Dane!" sighed Cassandra tremblingly, "I wanted you, I wanted
you! It has been so long lying there alone, all these days, hearing
nothing, knowing nothing, having no one to speak to..."

"Mrs Beverley--?"

"I couldn't. I wasn't sure. It was all so misty and confused at the
time that I did not know how much the others had heard... Your voice
sounded to me like a trumpet call, bringing me back to life, but it
might have been only a whisper. I couldn't tell if she knew, and until
I did, I couldn't speak."

"And she never--?"

"No! Grizel wouldn't. She was just her natural self. _Did_ she know
then? You talk as if... Did they both know?"

Peignton bowed his head.

"Yes. Both. There was no disguise. There was only one thing in the
world for me at that moment, and that was you. Heaven knows what I
said, but it was enough. Fate has been against us all the way. If it
had not been for that accident, no one need have known.--I could have
kept it to myself."

"Oh, Dane, would that have been better? Do you think that would have
helped me?" Cassandra asked pitifully. "There is only one thing that
makes life endurable at this moment, and that is that I _do_ know. It's
wicked; it's selfish; but it's true! I was starving with loneliness.
All those dreadful days at the sea when she was there, and I saw you
together, I was longing to die. It seemed as if I could not endure to
go on with life, but when death really came near, I was frightened.
It's terrible to feel your breath go. I think for a few moments I must
have lost consciousness, for I remember nothing after you seized hold of
me, until I was lying--like this--with my head on your shoulder, and you
were saying--saying..."

Peignton's breath came in a groan.

"Did I say it? I mean, am I more responsible than for the breath I
drew? What I said to you then, Cassandra, _said itself_. If I had been
in my sane senses, I would have killed myself rather than have said them
then--before her!"

Cassandra lifted her fringed eyelids in a questioning gaze.

"For my own sake I am glad; but it was hard for her. Poor Teresa! Was
she--did she... What has happened between you, Da