She saw the light dying in his eyes.
"Goose," she laughed. "Let me finish. I had to marry him. Oh, Hector, I can't tell you the agony, the shame, I went through—the fight I made. But it was no good. I married him at last—because I had to, Hector. I gave you up then, forever—because I had to. Jules was terribly jealous—he really did love me, Hector. When once his wife, I had to play the game, even though it—broke my heart. You must understand, Hector."
"I do," he answered.
"But—afterwards—I couldn't put you out of my mind. God knows, I tried. I couldn't love Jules. We drifted apart. But I played the game. All the same, I couldn't forget you. I followed your career, Hector, as well as I could. You don't know how proud and happy I was to see you climbing up—up—up—all the time." She smiled delightfully. "I watched for—a wife, Hector. But none appeared. Can you guess my thoughts, then? I can't express them. They're a secret between God and me. But I was happier than ever."
"Frances!" he said.
"A year ago, Jules died. As soon as his affairs were settled, I travelled extensively. I was restless—didn't know what to do. Father and mother are both dead, so I couldn't go back to them. Gradually it came to me, Hector, that, I should seek you out—wherever you were. I felt sure of you still, Hector, dear, you see—and perhaps you needed me. But what's the use of saying more? I returned to Canada. It was easy to find out where you were. Then I wrote—and followed the letter. That's all."
"Frances! After all these years——"
So, for a moment, they gave themselves up to their great happiness. It seemed to Hector that all his dreary, toilsome life was compensated for, then and there; that once again he was back in Paradise.
"We can still begin, Frances," he told her. "It's not too late. But if only you'd come before.... Frances, I'm in the forties—think of it—with you, it doesn't matter—" He took her face in his hands and looked at her with a tenderness that pierced her heart. "Frances, dear, you're just the same! You've hardly changed a bit—and I—I!——"
"Hector, don't talk like that." Tears blinded her. "You've been ill—my poor boy! Mr. Northcote didn't know, till we got here this afternoon, or we'd have hurried even more. Hector—Hector——"