"Is he?—poor Charlie! Tell him I am in no pain, and I should like to think he will never quite forget me."
"He will never do that," said Saidie, going away with her message but half satisfied, and Bella turned a flushed cheek to her pillow.
And then, for the second time, John Chetwynd asked, "Who is that man?"
And Bella tried feebly to tell him. He had been attached to her for a long time, and had come over with her from the States.
"And you—did you mean to marry him, Bella?"
"I had thought of it—it seemed suicidal to say no to such an offer, and then I—oh, Jack, when I saw you I knew I could never love any other man!"
He poured out a draught and held it to her trembling lips.
"I feel so strangely weak," she said; "you are going to marry Ethel, and I am nothing to you now?"
John Chetwynd drew her close to him, so that the tired head rested on his shoulder with the sweet familiarity of long ago.
"Listen," he said. "I have been a coward, frightened of the truth. The world was dearer to me than happiness, or I thought so, and I hesitated, afraid of its contempt. But amid my weakness was one thought, one impulse, which no amount of worldly prudence or consideration could stifle, and Bella—my wife—that was my love for you."