him in the
darkness, when they had been silent for a few minutes.

Harvey replied by changing his own place.

'I want to tell you,' she resumed, her face near to his. 'I can't wait,
and know you are thinking about me. There isn't much to tell. Are you
sure you can believe me?'

'I have promised that I will.'

'I don't ask you to be kind or to love me. You will never love me
again. Only believe that I tell the truth, that's all. I am not like
that woman.'

'Tell me,' he urged impatiently.

'I wanted to make use of Mr. Redgrave to use his influence with people
in society, so that I could have a great success. I knew he wasn't to
be trusted, but I had no fear; I could trust myself. I never said or
did anything--it was only meeting him at people's houses and at
concerts, and telling him what I hoped for. You couldn't take any
interest in my music, and you had no faith in my power to make a
success. I wanted to show you that you were wrong.'

'I was wrong in more ways than one,' said Harvey.

'You couldn't help it. If you had tried to make me go another way, it
would only have led to unhappiness. At that time I was mad to make my
name known, and, though I loved you, I believe I could have left you
rather than give up my ambition. Mr. Redgrave used to invite people to
his house in the summer to afternoon tea, and I went there once with a
lady. Other people as well--a lot of other people. That's how I knew
the house. I was never there alone until that last evening.--Don't
shrink away from me!'

'I didn't. Go on, and be quick.'

'I suspected Sibyl from the moment you told me about her husband and Mr
Redgrave. You did, too, Harvey.'

'Leave her aside.'

'But it was because of her. I saw she was getting to dislike me, and I
thought she knew Mr. Redgrave was doing his best for me, and that she
was jealous, and would prevent him--do you understand? He was my
friend, nothing else; but _she_ would never believe that. And a few
days before my recital he seemed to lose interest, and I thought it was
her doing. Can you understand how I felt? Not jealousy, for I never
even liked him. I was living only for the hope of a success. Do you
believe me, Harvey?' 'Easily enough.'

Thereupon she related truly, without omission, the train of
circumstances that brought her to Wimbledon on the fatal night, and all
that happened until she fled away into the darkness.

'It would be silly to say I oughtn't to have gone there. Of cour