e, she said that I could not love;
that I did not know what love meant; that I never would know, because my
nature was too calm, too measured. She spoke other deriding words, which
I will not repeat; and then--and then--I do not know how it came about,
but I pushed her from me, with her whispering voice and shining eyes,
and spoke out aloud (we were standing near that door) those words--those
words which Bagshot has repeated."

"You said those words?"

"I did."

"Then you loved him?"

"Yes."

"Do you love him now?"

As Dexter asked this question his eyes were fixed upon her with a
strange intentness. At first she met his gaze with the same absorbed
expression unconscious of self which her face had worn from the
beginning. Then a burning blush rose, spread itself over her forehead,
and dyed even her throat before it faded. "You have no right to ask
that," she said, returning to her narrative with haste, as though it
were a refuge.

"After I had said those words, there was no more bitterness between us.
I think _then_ Helen forgave me. She asked me to come and live with her
in her desolation. I answered that perhaps later I could come, but not
then; and it was at this time that she said, not what Bagshot has
reported, 'You can not conquer hate,' but, 'You can not conquer fate.'
And she added: 'We two _must_ be together, Anne; we are bound by a tie
which can not be severed, even though we may wish it. You must bear with
me, and I must suffer you. It is our fate.'

"Later, she grew more feverish; her strength was exhausted. But when at
last I rose to go, she went with me to the door. 'If he had lived,' she
said, 'one of us must have died.' Then her voice sank to a whisper.
'Changed or died,' she added. 'And as we are not the kind of women who
change, it would have ended in the wearing out of the life of one of
us--the one who loved the most. And people would have called it by some
other name, and that would have been the end. But now it is _he_ who has
been taken, and--oh! I can not bear it--I can not, can not bear it!'"
She paused; her eyes were full of tears.

"Is that all?" said Dexter, coldly.

"That is all."

Then there was a silence.

"Do you not think it important?" she asked at last, with a new timidity
in her voice.

"It will make an impression; it will be your word against Bagshot's. The
point proved will be that instead of your having separated in anger,
with words of bitterness and jealousy, y