? Compared with
us you are a saint on earth!"

She hesitated a moment before she spoke. Then her voice came in a broken
way.

"I loved Angelo Reanda. I know it, now that I have lost him."

Griggs barely heard the last words, but he bent his head gravely, and
said nothing in answer.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

THE stillness was all around them and seemed to fold them together as
they sat side by side. A deep sigh quivered and paused and was drawn
again almost with a gasp that stirred the air. Suddenly Francesca's face
was hidden in her hands, and her head was bowed almost to her knees. A
moment more, and she sobbed aloud, wordless, as though her soul were
breaking from her heart.

In the great gloom there was something unearthly in the sound of her
weeping. The man who could neither suffer any more himself nor feel
human pity for another's suffering, turned and looked at her with
shadowy eyes. He understood, though he could not feel, and he knew that
she had borne more than any one had guessed.

She shed many tears, and it was long before her sobbing ceased to call
down pitiful, heart-breaking echoes from the unseen heights of darkness.
Her head was bent down upon her knees as she sat there, striving with
herself.

He could do nothing, and there was nothing that he could say. He could
not comfort her, he could not deny her grief. He only knew that there
was one more being still alive and bearing the pain of sins done long
ago. Truly the judgment upon that man by whom the offence had come,
should be heavy and relentless and enduring.

At last all was still again. Francesca did not move, but sat bowed
together, her hands pressing her face. Very softly, Griggs rose to his
feet, and she did not see that he was no longer seated beside her. He
stood up and leaned upon the broad marble of the balustrade. When she at
last raised her head, she thought that he was gone.

"Where are you?" she asked, in a startled voice.

Then, looking round, she saw him standing by the rail. She understood
why he had moved--that she might not feel that he was watching her and
seeing her tears.

"I am not ashamed," she said. "At least you know me, now."

"Yes. I know."

She also rose and stood up, and leaned upon the balustrade and looked
into his face.

"I am glad you know," she said, and he saw how pale she was, and that
her cheeks were wet. "Now that it is over, I am glad that you know," she
said again. "You are beyond sympathy