all. The suggestion roused not fear, but
anger, and the militant spirit of independence that circumstances had
so fostered in her.

She knew now that she hated him, as we only hate those whom we have
wronged. It was intolerable that he should persecute her against her
wish; and she swung round sharply, with words of pitiless truth on her
lips.

But the night seemed marked for the unexpected:--and now it was joy
incredible that fettered her tongue and her feet, while her husband
hastened forward, his face clearly visible in the growing light.

"I followed that fellow when he went after you," he said bluntly, anger
smouldering in his tone. "And I saw him leave you. Did you send him
away?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I didn't want him."

"Does that apply to me also?"

"No . . . please stay."

There fell a silence pregnant with things unutterable. Lenox came
closer.

"What possessed you to sing that song,--in that way--Quita?"

It was the first time he had spoken her name, and she turned from him,
pressing her fingers against flaming cheeks.

"Oh, I am burnt up with shame! I feel as if I had told all of them."

"Told them--what?"

"_Mon Dieu_! Will you compel me to say everything?"

She flung out both hands, and he caught and crushed them till she
winced under the pressure. Then, holding her at arm's-length, he
looked searchingly into her eyes.

And while they stood so--in this their first instant of real union,
that dwarfed the years between to a watch in the night--each was aware
of the other's answering heart; and in each, love burnt with so
flame-like a quality that neither speech nor touch was needed to seal
the intimacy of contact.

At length he drew her nearer.

"Does it frighten you now when I look right into you?" he asked, an odd
vibration in his voice.

"No . . . no. I am only afraid you may not see deep enough."

He drew a great breath.

"Thank God for that. But tell me,--for I am still in the dark,--how on
earth has such a miracle come to pass?"

Her low laugh had a ring of inexpressible content.

"Dearest, and blindest! Did it never occur to you that you could not
have laid a surer trap to win me than by just keeping clear of me, and
living in . . . that Mrs Desmond's pocket?"

He shook his head, smiling down at her. Her old subtle charm with this
strange new tenderness superadded, was working like an elixir in his
veins.

"But what does the _how_ of it matter, after all?