e world saw nothing. The
steel in her nature carried her through. She left no duty
unaccomplished. She gave her confidence to no human being. I, to whom
she might have come, was carried off to the sepulchre above mentioned.
Letters were forbidden. But every day, for all her bleak despair, Betty
sent me a box of fresh flowers. They would not tell me it was Betty who
sent them; but I knew. My wonderful Betty.

When they took off my cerecloths and sent me back to Wellingsford,
Betty was the first to smile her dear welcome. We resumed our old
relations. But Betty, treating me as an invalid, forbore to speak of
Leonard Boyce. Any approach on my part came up against that iron wall
of reserve of which I spoke to you long ago.

But last night she told me all. What she said I cannot repeat. But she
had divined the essential secret of the double tragedy of the canal. It
had become obvious to her that he had made the final reparation for a
wrong far deeper than she had imagined. She was very clear-eyed and
clear-souled. During her long companionship with pain and sorrow and
death, she had learned many things. She had been purged by the fire of
the war of all resentments, jealousies, harsh judgments, and came forth
pure gold.... Leonard had been the great love of her life. If you
cannot see now why she married Willie Connor, gave him all that her
generous heart could give, and after his death was irresistibly drawn
back to Boyce, I have written these pages in vain.

A few minutes before midnight Marigold entered with a tray bearing a
cake or two, a pint of champagne and a couple of glasses. While he was
preparing to uncork the bottle Betty slipped from the room and returned
with another glass.

"For Sergeant Marigold," she said.

She opened the French window behind the drawn curtains and listened. It
was a still clear night. Presently the clock of the Parish Church
struck twelve. She came down to the little table by my side and filled
the glasses, and the three of us drank the New Year in. Then Betty
kissed me and we both shook hands with Marigold, who stood very stiff
and determined and cleared his throat and swallowed something as though
he were expected to make a speech. But Betty anticipated him. She put
both her hands on his gaunt shoulders and looked up into his ugly face.

"You've just wished me a Happy New Year, Sergeant."

"I have," said he, "and I mean it."

"Then will you let me have great happiness in staying h