to you that I did wrong to come to you and
tell you of the revelation that had been made to me. I have done it
in the belief that the letter which you received conveyed the same
information. May I be allowed to know if this is true?"

Bettina bent her head, but said no more.

"Then I feel myself justified in having come," he said, in a tone of
relief. "If I could have known you ignorant of the infamous wrong
that was done you, by the unscrupulous means used to beguile you into
a marriage which must so have tortured and humiliated any woman, I
might have kept silent. It might perhaps have been best to omit from
the list of the wrongs you must have suffered this crowning infamy of
all. But since it seemed certain that you knew it, and since it had
doubtless been the reason of your refusing to touch the money which
was so rightfully your due, and of your leaving the country where
this great wrong had been done you, I could not rest until I had
spoken. I could not still the longing to give you a certain solace
which I hoped it might be in my power to give. I knew how sad and
lonely you were. I had written to the rector and asked for tidings of
you."

"You had? He never told me," she said, wonderingly.

"I particularly bound him not to do so; but I did write more than
once, and got his answers. In that way it came to me that you were
unhappy--courageously and unselfishly, yet profoundly so, and it was
not difficult for me to comprehend the reason. You will forgive me
for going into a dead and buried issue for this once; but I knew your
nature, and it was obvious to me that you were torturing yourself
because you felt that you had done a wrong to me."

Bettina caught her breath suddenly, and covered her face with her
hands.

"Is it not so?" he said.

But she could not speak. The shrinking anguish of her whole attitude
was her only answer.

Then he took the seat nearest her, and said:

"It is with the hope of lifting this totally unnecessary burden from
your mind that I have come. I beg you to have patience with me while
I speak to you quite simply and tell you why you would be doing wrong
to blame yourself on my account. For this once I must ask you to let
me speak of the past--not the recent past--let us consider that in
its grave forever--but the remote past, in which for a short while I
had a share. I, too, have my confession to make and pardon to beg,
for I am conscious that I wronged you, though it was throu