edge that I have nothing to forgive in you;--and am weak enough
to forgive all his treachery.' Hetta was now holding the woman by the
hand, and was weeping, she knew not why. 'I am so glad to have seen
you,' continued Mrs Hurtle, 'so that I may know what his wife was like.
In a few days I shall return to the States, and then neither of you
will ever be troubled further by Winifred Hurtle. Tell him that if he
will come and see me once before I go, I will not be more unkind to
him than I can help.'

When Hetta did not decline to be the bearer of this message she must
have at any rate resolved that she would see Paul Montague again,--and
to see him would be to tell him that she was again his own. She now
got herself quickly out of the room, absolutely kissing the woman whom
she had both dreaded and despised. As soon as she was alone in the
street she tried to think of it all. How full of beauty was the face
of that American female,--how rich and glorious her voice in spite of a
slight taint of the well-known nasal twang;--and above all how powerful
and at the same time how easy and how gracious was her manner! That
she would be an unfit wife for Paul Montague was certain to Hetta, but
that he or any man should have loved her and have been loved by her,
and then have been willing to part from her, was wonderful. And yet
Paul Montague had preferred herself, Hetta Carbury, to this woman! Paul
had certainly done well for his own cause when he had referred the
younger lady to the elder.

Of her own quarrel of course there must be an end. She had been unjust
to the man, and injustice must of course be remedied by repentance and
confession. As she walked quickly back to the railway station she
brought herself to love her lover more fondly than she had ever done.
He had been true to her from the first hour of their acquaintance.
What truth higher than that has any woman a right to desire? No doubt
she gave to him a virgin heart. No other man had ever touched her
lips, or been allowed to press her hand, or to look into her eyes with
unrebuked admiration. It was her pride to give herself to the man she
loved after this fashion, pure and white as snow on which no foot has
trodden. But, in taking him, all that she wanted was that he should be
true to her now and henceforward. The future must be her own work. As
to the 'now,' she felt that Mrs Hurtle had given her sufficient
assurance.

She must at once let her mother know this chan