k of these
things, and we must not." She rose to her feet. "My husband is somewhere
near. I will call him. There are so many things that men can talk
of-pleasant and agreeable things--"

He had risen with her, and as her hand was stretched out to ring, stayed
it. "No, never mind your husband just now. I think he knows what I am
going to say to you."

"But, oh, you must not--must not!" she urged.

"Pardon me, but I must," was his reply.

"As I said, you thought I was a good fellow. Well, I am not; not at all.
I will tell you why I left you. I was--already married."

He let the bare unrelieved fact face her, and shock her.

"You were--already married--when--you loved me," she said, her face
showing misery and shame.

He smiled a little bitterly when he saw the effect of his words, but
said clearly: "Yes. You see I was a villain."

She shuddered a little, and then said simply: "Your face was not the
face of a bad man. Are you telling me the truth?"

He nodded.

"Then you were wicked with me," she said at last, with a great sigh,
looking him straight in the eyes. "But you--you loved me?" she said with
injured pride and a piteous appeal in her voice. "Ah, I know you loved
me!"

"I will tell you when you know all," he answered evenly.

"Is there more to tell?" she asked heavily, and shrinking from him now.

"Much more. Please, come here." He went towards the open window of the
room, and she followed. He pointed out to where his horse stood in the
palms.

"That is my horse," he said. He whistled to the horse, which pricked
up its ears and trotted over to the window. "The name of my horse," he
said, "maybe familiar to you. He is called Firefoot."

"Firefoot!" she answered dazedly, "that is the name of Hyland's
horse--Hyland the bushranger."

"This is Hyland's horse," he said, and he patted the animal's neck
gently as it thrust its head within the window.

"But you said it was your horse," she rejoined slowly, as though the
thing perplexed her sorely.

"It is Hyland's horse; it is my horse," he urged without looking at her.
His courage well-nigh failed him. Villain as he was, he loved her, and
he saw the foundations of her love for him crumbling away before him. In
all his criminal adventures he had cherished this one thing.

She suddenly gave a cry of shame and agony, a low trembling cry, as
though her heart-strings were being dragged out. She drew back from
him--back to the middle of the room.

He ca