"I was terribly afraid—before you came in—that you'd—you might have—forgotten, Hector. I didn't know whether you'd think me mad—but I had faith in you. I've never forgotten what you said—that night at home—when you said you'd never—well, love anyone else—and I promised to be true to you. So I thought, 'He'll keep his word.' Then, when I met Mr. Northcote—he's such a dear—and found he knew you so well—I just told him, Hector. And he said he was sure—I needn't be afraid——"
"Afraid?" She was in his arms again. "Afraid? Frances, if you only knew—how I've thought of you—how your face has always been before me—day and night—in these fifteen long, long years—what hell I went through when I lost you—and how hope left me long ago—so I just went on alone. I'm not the sort that loves more than once, Frances. I've loved you always—you don't know what you've been to me—I'm no orator, Frances, but——"
"I can guess—" she whispered.
Presently, he asked her, overwhelmed once more with wonder:
"But Frances—how did you get here—where did you meet Northcote? Surely you didn't come into this wild part of the world—alone?"
"Not exactly alone. I chummed up with some men on the boat—and your fellows—how magnificent they are, Hector!—helped me along. I met Mr. Northcote by chance, at Lucky. The blizzard caught him there, like the rest of us—he'd come down on business, he said. He offered to escort me to Discovery. And that explains, doesn't it?"
"But then—you really came alone—all this way? Why?"
"Must I tell you?" she asked, eyes very misty.
"Frances—not——?"
"Because you were here? Yes, Hector."