it. Yes," she cried feverishly, clasping and unclasping her hands, "Heaven knows I fought it with all my strength, and reasoned with myself, and—oh, I did everything, but" Her quick-falling tears made speech difficult.
"Kathleen!" Broomhurst urged desperately, "you couldn't help it, you poor child. You say yourself you struggled against your feelings you were always gentle. Perhaps he didn't know."
"But he did—he did" she wailed, "it is just that. I hurt him a hundred times a day; he never said so, but I knew it; and yet I couldn't be kind to him except in words and he understood. And after you came it was worse in one way, for he knew. I felt he knew that I loved you. His eyes used to follow me like a dog's, and I was stabbed with remorse, and I tried to be good to him, but I couldn t."
"But—he didn't suspect—he trusted you," began Broomhurst. "He had every reason. No woman was ever so loyal, so"
"Hush," she almost screamed. "Loyal! it was the least I could do—to stop you, I mean—when you—After all, I knew it without your telling me. I had deliberately married him without loving him. It was my own fault. I felt it. Even if I couldn't prevent his knowing that I hated him, I could prevent that. It was my punishment. I deserved it for daring to marry without love. But I didn't spare John one pang, after all," she added bitterly. "He knew what I felt towards him—I don't think he cared about anything else. You say I mustn't reproach myself? When I went back to the tent that morning—when you—when I stopped you from saying you loved me, he was sitting at the table with his head buried in his hands; he was crying—bitterly: I saw him—it is terrible to see a man cry—and I stole away gently, but he saw me. I was torn to pieces, but I couldn't go
