keeping it with the
hand that was not caressing hers. Presently he spoke again, more at
ease, but always in the undertone, just above a whisper, that meant
the consciousness of Sally, too, near. Rosalind said, "She won't
hear," and he replied, "No; it's all right, I think," and continued:

"Diedrich Kreutzkammer--he's Diedrich--don't you remember? Of course
you do!... I heard him down on the beach to-day singing. I wanted to
go to him at once, but I had to think of it first, so I came home.
Then I settled to go to him at the hotel. I had not remembered
anything then--anything to speak of--I had not remembered IT. Now it
is all back upon me, in a whirl." He freed the hand that held hers
for a moment, and pressed his fingers hard upon his eyes; then took
her hand again, as before. "I wanted to see the dear old fellow and
talk over old times, at 'Frisco and up at the Gold River--that, of
course! But I wanted, too, to make him repeat to me all the story
I had told him of my early marriage--oh, my darling!--_our_ marriage,
and I did not know it! I know it now--I know it now."

Rosalind could feel the thrill that ran through him as his hand
tightened on hers. She spoke, to turn his mind for a moment. "How
came Baron Kreutzkammer at St. Sennans?"

"Diedrich? He has a married niece living at Canterbury. Don't you
remember? He told you and you told me...." Rosalind had forgotten
this, but now recalled it. "Well, we talked about the States--all the
story I shall have to tell you, darling, some time; but, oh dear, how
confused I get! _That_ wasn't the first. The first was telling him my
story--the accident, and so on--and it was hard work to convince him
it was really me at Sonnenberg. That was rather a difficulty, because
I had sent him in the name I had in America, and he only saw an old
friend he thought was dead. All _that_ was a trifle; but, oh, the
complications!..."

"What was the name you had in America?"

Fenwick answered musingly, "Harrisson," and then paused before saying,
"No, I had better not...." and leaving the sentence unfinished. She
caught his meaning, and said no more. After all, it could matter very
little if she never heard his American experiences, and the name
Harrisson had no association for her. She left him to resume, without
suggestion.

"He might have reminded me of anything that happened in the States,
and I should just have come back here and told it you, because, you
see, I should have been s