"Well, then, it is the truth! I was engaged to Philip Danvers at Fort Macleod. I threw him over afterwards, because he had no money and you had. Now are you satisfied?" The cruel desire to hurt gave this added thrust. "No? Then let me tell you that I have never loved you, never! I've always loved Philip Danvers—always—always—always!" Her voice rose in crescendo.
At last it was spoken. Eva stood at bay, her jewels glittering on bare shoulders and arms as balefully as her eyes flashed hate.
"God!" Latimer reeled, and put his hand on his heart, but recovered himself. "And Philip"—the words came in a chill whisper—"did he love—you?"
"You'd better ask him!" Eva was wholly beside herself, in the reaction of a weak woman's fear.
"Phil—my friend!" he choked, started and winced, putting his hand again over his heart; then fell heavily.
The woman screamed in fright and knelt beside him.
"Arthur, he never cared—after I dismissed him. He despised me. He despises me now—more than you ever can. Oh, God in heaven! What have I done?" Remorse followed swiftly on her anger.
Latimer was conscious as his wife raised his head. He had understood her confession, and although he could not speak he motioned for her to seek assistance; but the effort was too much, and he again sank back, moaning.
Eva laid him gently down, and flew to the door. As she opened it she fell against Danvers, coming from Winifred's side.
"You've killed him, at last!" Philip flayed her with word and look as she sped for other help; but he forgot her as he knelt and raised Latimer's head to his knee. He would have carried him to a couch, but Arthur motioned that he could not endure that pain. The look of trust that greeted Danvers was returned with one of love and fidelity.