"I am quite sure of it. How could you doubt that?"
"I did doubt it for a time. I heard the man say that he married me because I was—rich."
"And you believed it?"
"I believed anything—everything. And the rest," said Nan, with a rising color in her face, "the rest was true."
"Dear," said Lettice, gently, "there is only one thing to be said now—that he would be very glad to undo the past. He is very sorry."
"You think he is?"
"Can you look at him and not see the marks of his sorrow and his pain upon his face? He has suffered a great deal; and it would be better for him now to forget the past, and to feel that you forgave him."
Nan brushed away some falling tears, but did not speak at once.
"Lettice," she said at last, in a broken whisper, "I believe I have been very hard and cold all these long months. I thought I did not care—but I do, I do. Only—I wish I could forget—that poor girl—and the little child——"
She burst into sudden weeping, so vehement that Lettice put both her arms round the slight, shaken figure, and tried to calm her by caresses and gentle words.