s
storming at them to turn round and put up a fight that--that he was shot
in the back." She faltered, meeting the measureless reproach in Sara's
eyes, and strickenly aware of the hateful interpretation she had put
upon the same incident when describing it to her on a former occasion.

For the first time, she seemed to lose her composure, rocking a little
where she stood and supporting herself by gripping the edge of the table
with straining fingers.

But no one stirred. In poignant silence they awaited the continuance
of the tale which each one sensed to be developing towards a climax of
inevitable calamity.

"Afterwards," pursued Elisabeth at last, "at the court-martial, two of
the men gave evidence that they had seen Geoffrey fall wounded at the
beginning of the skirmish--they did not know that it was Maurice who had
disabled him intentionally--so that he was completely exonerated from
all blame, and the Court came to the conclusion that, the command
having thus fallen to Maurice, he had lost his nerve and been guilty
of cowardice in face of the enemy. Geoffrey himself knew nothing of the
actual facts--either then or later. He had gone down like a log when
Maurice shot him, striking his head as he fell, and concussion of the
brain wiped out of his mind all recollection of what had occurred in the
fight prior to his fall. The last thing he remembered was mustering
his men together in readiness to leave the fort. Everything else was a
blank."

Out of the shadows of the fire-lit room came a muttered question.

"Yes." Elisabeth bent her head in answer. "There was--other evidence
forthcoming. But not then, not at the time of the trial. Then Maurice
was dismissed from the Army."

She seemed to speak with ever-increasing difficulty, and her hand
went up suddenly to her throat. It was obvious that this self-imposed
disclosure of the truth was taking her strength to its uttermost limit.

"I had better tell you the whole story--from the beginning," she said,
at last, haltingly, and, after a moment's hesitation, she resumed in the
hard, expressionless voice of intense effort.

"Before Maurice went out to India, he and I were engaged to be married.
On my part, it would have been only a marriage of convenience, for I
was not in love with him, although I had always been fond of him in a
cousinly way. There was another man whom I loved--the man I afterwards
married, Geoffrey Lovell--" for an instant her eyes glowed with a