"Oh, Heaven! I remember all now," he moaned, "You told me that my darling was dead."
"Yes," she said, in a soft, sweet tone, "Flower is dead—poor, unfortunate girl—but I would not have broken it to you so abruptly if I had known that you would take it so hard."
"You knew I loved her, Jewel," he said, looking keenly into the beautiful, sparkling face.
"Yes, once," she replied; "but I thought it had all blown over long ago. Mamma refused her consent, and then you went away. I thought you had forgotten it, as Flower did very soon."
"No, no, she did not forget, Jewel!" he groaned; then paused, remembering that Jewel could not be expected to know anything of that secret marriage and their correspondence. Presently he said, mournfully:
"She is dead—beautiful Flower is dead! How long ago was it, Jewel?"
She named the day when Flower had run away, and added:
"She committed suicide. She drowned herself in the sea."
She feared he would faint again, so awful was the pallor that overspread his face, so she cried out, hastily: