. I clipped them. Worse still,--I
broke them."

"Does he know you feel yourself so in the wrong?" Garth asked the
question very gently.

"No," replied Nurse Rosemary. "He will give me no chance to explain,
and no opportunity to tell him how he wrongs himself and me by the view
he now takes of my conduct."

"Poor girl!" said Garth in tones of sympathy and comprehension. "My own
experience has been such a tragedy that I can feel for those whose
course of true love does not run smooth. But take my advice, Miss Gray.
Write him a full confession. Keep nothing back. Tell him just how it
all happened. Any man who truly loves would believe, accept your
explanation, and be thankful. Only, I hope he would not come tearing up
here and take you away from me!"

Jane smiled through a mist of tears.

"If he wanted me, Mr. Dalmain, I should have to go to him," said Nurse
Rosemary.

"How I dread the day," continued Garth, "when you will come and say to
me: 'I have to go.' And, do you know, I have sometimes thought--you
have done so much for me and become so much to me--I have sometimes
thought--I can tell you frankly now--it might have seemed as if there
were a very obvious way to try to keep you always. You are so immensely
worthy of all a man could offer, of all the devotion a man could give.
And because, to one so worthy, I never could have offered less than the
best, I want to tell you that in my heart I hold shrined forever one
beloved face. All others are gradually fading. Now, in my blindness, I
can hardly recall clearly the many lovely faces I have painted and
admired. All are more or less blurred and indistinct. But this one face
grows clearer, thank God, as the darkness deepens. It will be with me
through life, I shall see it in death, THE FACE OF THE WOMAN I LOVE.
You said 'loved' of your lover, hesitating to be sure of his present
state of heart. I can neither say 'love' nor 'loved' of my beloved. She
never loved me. But I love her with a love which makes it impossible
for me to have any 'best' to offer to another woman. If I could bring
myself, from unworthy motives and selfish desires, to ask another to
wed me, I should do her an untold wrong. For her unseen face would be
nothing to me; always that one and only face would be shining in my
darkness. Her voice would be dear, only in so far as it reminded me of
the voice of the woman I love. Dear friend, if you ever pray for me,
pray that I may never be so base as to