m swiftly, and caught the hand of her husband, which was
stretched out as if groping for hers. He stumbled to his feet, and she
stood defending him like a gentle creature of the woods at bay.

Perhaps at no other moment of her life would Dierdre O'Farrell have been
struck with such poignant repentance. That she, who had just been shown
the secret, inner heart of one blind man, should deliberately wound
another, seemed more than she could bear, and live.

Brian remained silent, partly because he was still confused, and partly
to give Dierdre the chance to speak, which he felt instinctively she
would wish to seize.

She took a step forward, then stopped, with a sob, shamed tears stinging
her eyes. "Will you forgive me?" she begged. "I would rather have died
than hurt a blind man, or--or any one who loves a blind man. Lately I've
been finding out how sacred blindness is. I ought to have guessed,
Madame, that you were with him--that you were his wife. I ought to have
known that only a great grief could have turned your wonderful hair
white--you, so young----"

"Her hair white!" cried the blind officer. "No, I'll not believe it.
Suzanne, tell this lady she's mistaken. I remember, in some lights, it
was the palest gold, almost silver--your beautiful hair that I fell in
love with----"

His voice broke. No one answered. There fell a dead silence, and Dierdre
had time to realize what she had done. She had been cruel as the grave!
She had accused a helpless blind man of selfishness; and not content
with that, on top of all she had given away the secret that a brave
woman's love had hidden.

"Suzanne--you don't speak!"

"Oh!" the trembling woman tried to laugh. "Of course, Mademoiselle is
mistaken. That goes without saying."

"Yes--I--of _course_," Dierdre echoed. "It was the light--deceived me."

"And now," said the blind man slowly, "you are trying to deceive
_me_--you are both trying! Suzanne, why did you keep it from me that
your hair had turned white with grief? Didn't you know I'd love you
more, for such a proof of love for me?"

"Indeed, I--oh, you mustn't think----" she began to stammer. "I loved
your dear eyes as you loved my hair. But I love it twice as much now.
I----"

He cut her short. "I don't think. I _know_. _Cherie_, you need have had
no fear. I shall worship you after this."

"She could never have been so lovely before. Her hair is like spun
glass," Dierdre tried to atone. "People would turn to loo