rsting shell
spreading destruction.

He came out of that trance-like stillness with a gesture of horror, as if
freeing himself from some evil thing that had wound itself about him
unawares.

Her hands fell away from his shoulders instantly. She was white to
the lips. She even for one incredible moment--the only moment in her
life--shrank from him. But that impulse vanished as swiftly as it came,
vanished in a rush of passionate understanding. For with a groan Bertrand
sank forward and bowed his head in his hands.

"_Mon Dieu_!" he said. "What have I done?"

She responded as it were instinctively, not pausing to choose her words,
speaking in a quick, vehement whisper, because his distress was more than
she could bear.

"It is none of your doing, Bertie. You are not to say it--not to think it
even. It happened long, long ago. You know it did. It happened--it
happened--that day at Valpre--the day you--took me into your boat."

He groaned again, his head dropping lower. She knew that also! Then was
she woman indeed!

There followed a silence during which Chris remained kneeling beside him,
but she was no longer agitated. She was strangely calm. A new strength
seemed to have been given her to cope with this pressing need. When at
last she moved, it was to lay a hand that was quite steady upon his knee.

"Bertie," she said, "listen! You have done nothing wrong. You have
nothing to reproach yourself with. It wasn't your fault that I took so
long to grow up." A piteous little smile touched her lips, and was gone.
"You have been very good to me," she said. "I won't have you blame
yourself. No woman ever had a truer friend."

He laid his hand upon hers, but he kept his eyes covered. She could only
see the painful twitching of his mouth under the slight moustache.

"Ah, Christine," he said at last, with an effort, "I have tried--I have
tried--to be faithful."

"And you have never been anything else," she said very earnestly. "You
were my _preux chevalier_ from the very beginning, and you have done more
for me than you will ever know. Bertie, Bertie"--her voice thrilled
suddenly--"though it's all so hopeless, do you think it isn't easier for
me now that I know? Do you think I would have it otherwise if I could?"

His hand closed tightly upon hers with a quick, restraining pressure. He
could not answer her.

For some seconds he did not speak at all. At length, "Then--you trust me
still, Christine?" he said, his voice