Then, for the first time, the whole truth burst upon him. The surprise of it almost deprived him of speech, and he stammered:
"No, I—I—" Then he fell silent.
"What little I did, I did because I love you," said the girl, in a tired voice. "You may as well know, for it makes no difference now."
"I—I am sorry," he said, gripped by a strong emotion that made him go hot and cold. "I have been a fool."
"No, you were merely wrapped up in your own affairs. You see, I had been living my own life, and was fairly contented till you came; then everything changed. For a long time I hoped you might grow to love me as I loved you, but I found it was no use. When I saw you so honest and unselfish in your devotion to that other girl, I thought it was my chance to do something unselfish in my turn. It was hard—but I did my best. I think I must love you in the same way you love her, Boyd, for there is nothing in all the world I would not do to make you happy. That's all there is to the poor little story, and it won't make any difference now, except that you and I can't go on as we have done; I shall never have the courage to come back after this. You will win Miss Wayland yet, and attain your heart's desire. I am only sorry that I have made it harder for you—that I cannot help you any further. But I cannot. There is but one thing more I can do—"
"I want no more sacrifice!" he cried, roughly. "I've been blind. I've taken too much from you already."
The girl stood for a moment with her eyes turned toward the river. Then she said:
"I must think. I—I want to go away. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," he returned, and stood watching her as she hurried away, half suspecting the tears that were trembling amid her lashes.
It was not until supper-time that Boyd saw "Fingerless" Fraser, and questioned him about his quest for an heiress.