She came, and in a few minutes told him her history since he had seen her last. The captain of the Lynniale pitying her terror at the prospect of her husband following her, had concealed her when the steamer was near Sydney, and it was he who telegraphed to Charlton that his wife had disappeared on the passage and was supposed to have jumped or fallen overboard. And she told Lester that she knew of her husband's second marriage and knew who it was whom he had married.
What was she going to do? Lester asked.
Nothing, she said. She would rather die than let Charlton know she was alive. When she had saved money enough she would go back to her own people.
Lester walked home with her. At the door of the hotel she bade him good-night.
“We shall meet sometimes, shall we not?” she asked wistfully. “I have not a friend in all Sydney.”
“Neither have I,” he said, “and I shall only be too happy to come and see you.” She was silent a moment, then as she placed her hand in his she asked softly—
“Have you forgotten her altogether?”
“Yes,” he answered, “I have. I did cut up a bit at first. But I'm over it now.”
Her fingers pressed his again, and then with an almost whispered “Good-night” she was gone.
Before a month was over Lester was honestly in love with her. And she knew it, though he was too honourable a man to tell her so. Then one day he came to her hurriedly.