a.
Whereupon he bottled up his pain, shut down his natural and admirably
infrequent anger, and came over to the stone bench.

"You're not crying, dearest witch, are you?" he asked her.

"Yes, I am," Damaris said. "What else is there left for me to
do?--Everyone I care for I seem to make unhappy. Everything I do goes
wrong. Everything I touch gets broken and spoilt somehow."

"Endless tragedies of little green jade elephants?" he gently
bantered her.

"Yes--endless. For now I have hurt you. You are trying to be good and
like your usual self to me; but that doesn't take me in. I know all
through me I have hurt you--quite dreadfully badly--though I never, never
meant to, and haven't an idea how or why."

This was hardly comforting news to Carteret. He attempted no disclaimer;
while she, after fumbling rather helplessly at the breast-pocket of her
jacket, at last produced a folded letter and held it out to him.

"Whether it's treacherous or not, I am obliged to tell you," she said,
with pathetic desperation. "For I can't bear any more. I can't but try my
best to keep you, Colonel Sahib. And now you are hurt, I can only keep
you by making you understand--just everything. You may still think me
wrong; but anyhow my wrongness will be towards somebody else, not towards
you.--So please read this, and don't skip, because every word helps to
explain. Read it right through before you ask me any questions--that's
more fair all round.--If you go across there--under the lamp, I
mean--there still is light enough, I think, for you to be able to see."

And Carteret, thus admonished--partly to pacify her, partly to satisfy a
very vital curiosity which stirred in him to compass the length, breadth,
and height of this queer business, learn the truth and so set certain
vague and agitating fears at rest--did as Damaris bade him. Standing in
the conflicting gaslight and moonlight, the haunted quiet of the small
hours broken only by the trample and wash of the sea, he read Darcy
Faircloth's letter from its unconventional opening, to its equally
unconventional closing paragraph.

"Now my holiday is over and I will close down till next Christmas
night--unless miracles happen meanwhile--so good-bye--Here is a boatload
of my lads coming alongside, roaring with song and as drunk as
lords.--God bless you. In spirit I once again kiss your dear feet"--

Carteret straightened himself up with a jerk. Looked at Damaris sitting
very still, a litt