"Thank you," she answered gently. She turned from him to Bernard, and bending kissed him. "Are you better? Peter told me it wasn't serious. I would have come to you sooner, but I was asleep for a very long time, and afterwards—Everard wanted me."
"Everard!" he said sharply. "Is he here?"
"Sit down!" murmured Sir Reginald, drawing forward his chair.
But Stella remained standing, her hand upon Bernard's shoulder. "Thank you. But I haven't come to stay. Only to tell you—just to tell you—all the things that Bernard couldn't, without betraying his trust."
"My dear, dear child!" Bernard broke in quickly, but Sir Reginald intervened in the same moment.
"No, no! Pardon me! Let her speak! She wishes to do so, and I—wish to listen."
Stella's hand pressed a little upon Bernard's shoulder, as though she supported herself thereby.
"It is right that you should know, Sir Reginald," she said. "It is only for my sake that it has been kept from you. But I—have travelled the desert too long to mind an extra stone or two by the way. First, with regard to the suspicion which drove him out of the Army. You thought—everyone thought—that he had killed Ralph Dacre up in the mountains. Even I thought so." Her voice trembled a little. "And I had less excuse than any one else, for he swore to me that he was innocent—though he would not—could not—tell me the truth of the matter. The truth was simply this. Ralph Dacre was not dead."
"Ah!" Sir Reginald said softly.
Bernard reached up and strongly grasped the hand that rested upon him. But he spoke no word.