t, a fine soldier whom
Michael held in high esteem, I wished still to keep her near me. Michael
had given me the Lodge to do with as I pleased. I put them into it. She
lives there still. Oh, Jim dearest, try to realise that I have not said
one word to you which was not completely truthful! Let me explain how I
came to be in Cornwall under her name instead of my own. If I might put
my hand in yours, Jim, I could tell you more easily.... No? Very well;
never mind.

"After I received the telegram last November telling me of my husband's
death, I had a very bad nervous breakdown. I do not think it was caused
so much by my loss, as by a prolonged mental strain, which had preceded
it. Just as I had moved to town and was getting better, full details
arrived, and I had to be told that it had been an accident. You know all
about the question as to whether I should hear the name or not. You also
know my decision. The worry of this threw me back. What you said in the
arbour was perfectly true. I _am_ a woman, Jim; often, a weak one; and I
was very much alone. I decided rightly, in a supreme moment--possibly you
may know who it was who graciously undertook to bring me the news from
the War Office--but, afterwards, I began to wonder; I allowed myself to
guess. Men from the front came home. My surmisings circled ceaselessly
around two--dear fellows, of whom I was really fond. At last I felt
convinced I knew, by intangible yet unmistakable signs, which was he who
had done it. I grew quite sure. And then--I hardly know how to tell you,
Jim--of all impossible horrors! The man who had killed Michael wanted to
marry _me_!--Oh, don't groan, darling; you make me so unhappy! But I do
not wonder you find it difficult to believe. He cared very much, poor
boy; and I suppose he thought that, as I should remain in ignorance, the
_fact_ need not matter. It seems hard to understand; but a man in love
sometimes loses all sense of proportion--at least so I once heard someone
say; or words to that effect. I did not allow it ever to reach the point
of an actual proposal; but I felt I must flee away. There were
others--and it was terrible to me. I loved none of them; and I had made
up my mind never to marry again unless I found my ideal. Oh, Jim!"

She laid her hand upon his knee. It might have been a falling leaf, for
all the sign he gave. She left it there, and went on speaking.

"People gossiped. Society papers contained constant trying paragraphs.