He was silent. The certainty, serene and complete, broke in a shaft of light through his darkness. He lifted his face to hers. Her eyes were closed. Her fair head had fallen a little on one side in an attitude of great weariness. Slowly, in answer to his imperative appeal, her eyes opened. They were at first dim and expressionless as though she withdrew her sight from some inner vision.
"Everything—Sigrid?"
"Everything," she answered.
"Barclay——"
"He told me—but I knew more—I knew everything. Because I loved you I understood."
A fine, contemptuous smile touched her suffering lips. "I knew Anne, too. I knew how she had chosen——"
He got up, driven to his feet by an intolerable knowledge.
"Then you shielded me——"
"Do you grudge me that little comfort?" she whispered. Then as he stood staring down at her, she made a little helpless effort to touch his hand. "Bracelet—brother—you mustn't be too proud——"
"Oh, God——" he burst out. "It isn't that—don't you know I love you too—and you've suffered——"