nk fell in love with me. You know how
obstinate Frank is when he has once set his mind on a thing. Frank
determined to have me; and my father was on his side. I would not listen.
I didn't give him so much as a chance to propose to me. And this state of
things lasted for quite a long time. It wasn't my fault; it wasn't
anybody's fault.'

'Just so,' I agreed, raising my head on one elbow, and listening
intently. It was the first sincere word I had spoken, and I was glad
to utter it.

'The man I had fallen in love with came nearer. He was decidedly tempted.
I began to feel sure of him. All I wanted was to marry him, whether he
loved me a great deal or only a little tiny bit. I was in that state.
Then he drew away. He scarcely ever came to the house, and I seemed never
to be able to meet him. And then one day my father showed me something
in the _Morning Post_. It was a paragraph saying that the man I was in
love with was going to marry a woman of title, a widow and the daughter
of a peer. I soon found out she was nearly twice his age. He had done it
to get on. He was getting on very well by himself, but I suppose that
wasn't fast enough for him. Carlotta, it nearly killed me. And I felt so
sorry for him. You can't guess how sorry I felt for him. I felt that he
didn't know what he had missed. Oh, how happy I should have made him! I
should have lived for him. I should have done everything for him. I
should have ... You don't mind me telling you all this?'

I made an imploring gesture.

'What a shame!' I burst out.

'Ah, my dear!' she said, 'he didn't love me. One can't blame him.'

'And then?' I questioned, with an eagerness that I tried to overcome.

'Frank was so persevering. And--and--I _did_ admire his character. A
woman couldn't help admiring his character, could she? And, besides, I
honestly thought I had got over the other affair, and that I was in love
with him. I refused him once, and then I married him. He was as mad for
me as I had been for the other one. Yes, I married him, and we both
imagined we were going to be happy.'

'And why haven't you been?' I asked.

'This is my shame,' she said. 'I could not forget the other one. We soon
found that out.'

'Did you _talk_ about it, you--and Frank?' I put in, amazed.

'Oh _no_!' she said. 'It was never mentioned--never once during fifteen
years. But he knew; and I knew that he knew. The other one was always
between us--always, always, always! The other one w