saw that it was from you, and he guessed, and was jealous and afraid. He told the maid that he would give it to me upstairs, and that as I was expecting him she needn't announce him. Stephen—he put the letter in his pocket."
Stephen made a sudden movement and leaned nearer to her.
"Go on," he said in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper.
"He kept it in his pocket. Yes, Robert did that. I, hearing nothing, thought you indifferent, and my heart seemed to break. He proposed to me that afternoon, and the next evening, knowing that you had indeed gone without a word, I gave him the answer he wanted."
She paused a moment, looking into the fire.
"I wrote to you to tell you of my engagement. You must have considered that the letter I wrote to you then was in answer to the one you had sent me. You thought that Robert had won fairly, and blamed yourself. When you came back, Robert and I were already married, and you resumed your friendship with him and with me. And I pretended—how well I pretended you know—that you were no more to me than my husband's friend. And you were the soul of honor, Stephen, for although I knew you still
