hite to the lips,
but there was no hesitancy about him. He acted instantly and decidedly
as a man quite sure of himself.

He carried her to the old _charpoy_ by the window and laid her down.

Many minutes later, when her anguish had a little spent itself, she
realised that he was kneeling beside her, holding her pressed against
his heart. Through all the bitter chaos of her misery and her shame
there came to her the touch of his hand upon her head.

It amazed her--it thrilled her, that touch of his; in a fashion it
awed her. She kept her face hidden from him; she could not look up.
But he did not seek to see her face. He only kept his hand upon her
throbbing temple till she grew still against his breast.

Then at length, his voice slow and deep and very steady, he spoke.
"Daisy, we will never speak of this again."

She gave a great start. Pity, even a certain measure of kindness,
she had almost begun to expect; but not this--not this! She made a
movement to draw herself away from him, but he would not suffer it. He
only held her closer.

"Oh, don't, Will, don't!" she implored him brokenly. "For your own
sake--let me go!"

"For my own sake, Daisy," he answered quietly,--"and for yours, since
you have come to me, I will never let you go again."

"But you can't want me," she insisted piteously. "Don't be generous,
Will. I can't bear it. Anything but that! I would rather you cursed
me--indeed--indeed!"

His hand restrained her, silenced her. "Hush!" he said. "You are my
wife. I love you, and I want you."

Tears came to her then with a rush, blinding, burning, overwhelming,
and yet their very agony was relief to her. She made no further
effort to loosen his hold. She even feebly clung to him as one needing
support.

"Ah, but I must tell you--I must tell you," she whispered at last.
"If--if you mean to forgive me, you must know--everything."

"Tell me, if it helps you," he answered, and he spoke with the
splendid patience that twenty weary months had wrought in him. "Only
believe--before you begin--that I have forgiven you. For--before
God--it is the truth."

And so presently, lying in his arms, her face hidden low on his
breast, she told him all, suppressing nothing, extenuating nothing,
simply pouring out the whole bitter story, sometimes halting,
sometimes incoherent, but never wavering in her purpose, till, like
an evil growth that yet clung about her palpitating heart, her sin lay
bare before him--the s