et that any breach
between us has ever existed. I desire nothing else; for, as you well
know, I love no one else but you. I have been foolish, I know. I ought
to have explained the girlish romantic affection I once entertained
for that man who afterwards married Mary. In those days he was my
ideal. Why, I cannot tell. Girls in their teens have strange
caprices, and that was mine. Just as schoolboys fall violently in love
with married women, so are schoolgirls sometimes attracted towards
aged men. People wonder when they hear of May and December marriages;
but they are not always from mercenary motives, as is popularly
supposed. Nevertheless I acted wrongly in not telling you the truth
from the first. I am alone to blame."

So much she said, though with many a pause, and with so keen a
self-reproach in her tone that I could hardly bear to hear her, when I
interrupted----

"There is mutual blame on both sides. Let us forget it all," and I
bent until my lips met hers and we sealed our compact with a long,
clinging caress.

"Yes, dear heart. Let us forget it," she whispered. "We have both
suffered--both of us," and I felt her arms tighten about my neck. "Oh,
how you must have hated me!"

"No," I declared. "I never hated you. I was mystified and suspicious,
because I felt assured that you knew the truth regarding the tragedy
at Kew, and remained silent."

She looked into my eyes, as though she would read my soul.

"Unfortunately," she answered, "I am not aware of the truth."

"But you are in possession of certain strange facts--eh?"

"That I am in possession of facts that lead me to certain conclusions,
is the truth. But the clue is wanting. I have been seeking for it
through all these months, but without success."

"Cannot we act in accord in this matter, dearest? May I not be
acquainted with the facts which, with your intimate knowledge of the
Courtenay household, you were fully acquainted with at the time of the
tragedy?" I urged.

"No, Ralph," she replied, shaking her head, and at the same time
pressing my hand. "I cannot yet tell you anything."

"Then you have no confidence in me?" I asked reproachfully.

"It is not a question of confidence, but one of honour," she replied.

"But you will at least satisfy my curiosity upon one point?" I
exclaimed. "You will tell me the reason you lived beneath Courtenay's
roof?"

"You know the reason well. He was an invalid, and I went there to keep
Mary company."