"I know!" she said, looking up into her face.
With a great leap the blood flew to Joan's neck and brow, then as slowly faded away, leaving her paler than before.
"What do you know?" she faltered; and she feared, yet desired, to hear.
"That you love him!" said Margaret very low. "I came in—I could not help it—I did not know—when Conrad was bidding you goodbye. Joan, I am so glad—so glad! Now you will understand; now you will not think me foolish any more!"
"Margaret, I am shamed for ever—it is sin!" whispered Joan, with her arms about her friend.
"It is love!" said the wife of Maurice von Lynar, with glowing eyes and pride in her voice.
"I hope I shall die in battle——"
"Joan!"
"I a wife, and love a priest—the brother of the man who is my husband! I pray God that He will take my life to atone for the sin of loving him. Yet He knows that I could neither help it nor yet hinder."
"Joan, you will yet be happy."