way to let her scorched nerves recover. Of how during the first year of
this release which was not freedom, she had twice changed her abode, to
get away from her own story--not because she was ashamed of it, but
because it reminded her of wretchedness. Of how she had then come to
Monkland, where the quiet life had slowly given her elasticity again.
And then of her meeting with Miltoun; the unexpected delight of that
companionship; the frank enjoyment of the first four months. And she
remembered all her secret rejoicing, her silent identification of another
life with her own, before she acknowledged or even suspected love. And
just three weeks ago now, helping to tie up her roses, he had touched
her, and she had known. But even then, until the night of Courtier's
accident, she had not dared to realize. More concerned now for him than
for herself, she asked herself a thousand times if she had been to blame.
She had let him grow fond of her, a woman out of court, a dead woman! An
unpardonable sin! Yet surely that depended on what she was prepared to
give! And she was frankly ready to give everything, and ask for nothing.
He knew her position, he had told her that he knew. In her love for him
she gloried, would continue to glory; would suffer for it without regret.
Miltoun was right in believing that newspaper gossip was incapable of
hurting her, though her reasons for being so impervious were not what he
supposed. She was not, like him, secured from pain because such
insinuations about the private affairs of others were mean and vulgar and
beneath notice; it had not as yet occurred to her to look at the matter
in so lofty and general a light; she simply was not hurt, because she was
already so deeply Miltoun's property in spirit, that she was almost glad
that they should assign him all the rest of her. But for Miltoun's sake
she was disturbed to the soul. She had tarnished his shield in the eyes
of men; and (for she was oddly practical, and saw things in very clear
proportion) perhaps put back his career, who knew how many years!

She sat down to drink her tea. Not being a crying woman, she suffered
quietly. She felt that Miltoun would be coming to her. She did not know
at all what she should say when he did come. He could not care for her
so much as she cared for him! He was a man; men soon forget! Ah! but he
was not like most men. One could not look at his eyes without feeling
that he could suffer terrib