"You did this, Moira—you!" he said at last.
"Something stronger than I, Jim. Faith, Hope——"
"And Charity," he added.
"I knew that I must succeed," she went on quickly. "I was driven by some inward force which gave me new courage, and strength. It was Faith, Jim, the Faith in you that my blindness had lost in the darkness of my uncertainty—the Faith that I found again. I had to succeed where others had failed. Faith gave me new vision—just in time," she finished with a gasp.
"You never believed that I could have——"
"No, never, Jim," she broke in in a hushed voice. "Not for a moment. It was too horrible!"
She hid her eyes with a hand for a moment as though to blot out the stain of the thought. "I've wondered why they didn't see as I saw. It's like a dream—all that afternoon after Fontainebleau. I hardly seem to remember why I did what I did. It seems so easy now that it's done. I only know that I prayed again and again—that you—not he—should triumph."
"Quinlevin——" he muttered.
She drew closer into his arms.
"He has escaped," she said with a shudder. "Perhaps it is best."