"If she'd have been worth her salt she'd have kept true to you," says Nan. "I don't believe in girls caving in, and marrying to please other people. I wouldn't, not for fifty mothers, leave alone one."
"No, you are a staunch little thing," says Keith, looking up at the bright mignonne face; "and you are worth a man's whole heart and life, Nan, and I feel I am neither worth the offering nor the acceptance. I have been a fool; but at last I seem to see my folly, and I am going to make one vigorous effort to conquer it. I am going to leave England—perhaps for ever."
"I think it is the very best thing you can do," she says quietly. "What is the use of wasting your life, and eating your heart out for a woman who can be nothing to you?"
"And you will forgive me my treachery to yourself?"
"My dear Keith," she says, with a little quivering smile. "I knew you were making a cat's-paw of me, but somehow I didn't mind that so much, if it would have been any real good to you. In time, I thought perhaps you might have got fond of me. Lots of men are, you know; but I began to see that it wouldn't do—that you couldn't take to me, and no wonder, when I was so different to—her. But as for forgiving, that's no big thing to do. And I never bear malice; 'tisn't in me. Yes, you go right straight away out of the country, and I'll make all this look natural enough, don't you fear. You're not the first young man I've knocked off by many. I'm a born flirt, they say. Well, I'm only acting up to my character."
Behind the bright eyes is a weight of tears she longs to shed, and will not. The brave little heart is throbbing and aching with pain. But Keith sees nothing, suspects nothing. He is only relieved she takes it so well, that after all she does not seem to care so very much.
He rises and holds out his hands. "You are far too good to me, Nan," he says brokenly. "I feel ashamed when I think of my conduct. God bless you, child, and make you happy."
"Too good to you," echoes Nan softly. "I don't know. It strikes me, Keith, that you are just the sort of fellow women would be 'good to.' I surmise they can't help it. It's just your way with them, you know. So it's really 'Good-bye.' Take my advice and go to the Rockies and shoot grizzlies. That'll cure you if anything will."
Not by any means a romantic parting, or a touching one; but it is a very faithful heart that masks its pain so bravely, and a very loving one too.
A week later, and town is eagerly discussing two startling pieces of news. One is that Keith Athelstone, the rich young American, has sailed for Timbuctoo or Tahiti, or New Zealand, people are not quite sure which; the other that Joel Salomans, the great millionaire, has come to smash over some gigantic speculation, and has blown his brains out in his hotel in Paris.