e? I wish to God I _did_ love you!" she cried,
passionately. "Perhaps it would make me forget that, to all intents and
purposes, I am a murderess."

Broomhurst met her wide, despairing eyes with an amazement which yielded
to sudden pitying comprehension.

"So that is it, my darling? You are worrying about _that_? You who were
as loyal as--"

She stopped him with a frantic gesture.

"Don't! _don't!_" she wailed. "If you only knew! Let me try to tell
you--will you?" she urged, pitifully. "It may be better if I tell some
one--if I don't keep it all to myself, and think, and _think_."

She clasped her hands tight, with the old gesture he remembered when she
was struggling for self-control, and waited a moment.

Presently she began to speak in a low, hurried tone: "It began
before you came. I know now what the feeling was that I was afraid to
acknowledge to myself. I used to try and smother it; I used to repeat
things to myself all day--poems, stupid rhymes--_anything_ to keep my
thoughts quite underneath--but I--_hated_ John before you came! We had
been married nearly a year then. I never loved him. Of course you are
going to say, 'Why did you marry him?'" She looked drearily over the
placid sea. "Why _did_ I marry him? I don't know; for the reason that
hundreds of ignorant, inexperienced girls marry, I suppose. My home
wasn't a happy one. I was miserable, and oh--_restless_. I wonder if
men know what it feels like to be restless? Sometimes I think they
can't even guess. John wanted me very badly; nobody wanted me at home
particularly. There didn't seem to be any point in my life. Do you
understand? . . . Of course, being alone with him in that little camp
in that silent plain"--she shuddered--"made things worse. My nerves went
all to pieces. Everything he said, his voice, his accent, his walk,
the way he ate, irritated me so that I longed to rush out sometimes and
shriek--and go _mad_. Does it sound ridiculous to you to be driven mad
by such trifles? I only know I used to get up from the table sometimes
and walk up and down outside, with both hands over my mouth to keep
myself quiet. And all the time I _hated_ myself--how I hated myself! I
never had a word from him that wasn't gentle and tender. I believe he
loved the ground I walked on. Oh, it is _awful_ to be loved like that
when you--" She drew in her breath with a sob. "I--I--it made me sick
for him to come near me--to touch me." She stopped a moment.

Broomhur