But it was at Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson’s “at home” afterwards, she went on to explain, when they had sat together listening to Tchaikowsky’s “None but the Weary Heart,” that the full flood of her affection had poured forth. It had poured forth in silence, for naturally she had not dared on such short acquaintanceship, to allow her feelings to betray themselves. And ever since that afternoon the pain of her love for the wounded man whom she had pitied perhaps almost as much as she loved him, had continued to increase. While conversing the two women who were such friends had been together on a settee. Now, all at once, Cora Hartsilver became strangely silent. Yootha looked at her in surprise for some moments. “Why, Cora, what has come over you?” she said suddenly, moving closer to her. “You are not put out at what I have told you, are you?” “Put out? Indeed no,” and as she spoke she unconsciously laid her hand upon the girl’s and held it rather tightly. “No, I was only thinking--it was only something that----” She caught her breath, and Yootha heard her sob. “Cora, Cora,” she exclaimed. “Oh, do tell me what is the matter! What is it you are thinking of?” Their arms were about each other now, their faces pressed together. Then, suddenly, Cora Hartsilver broke down, and began to cry piteously. “It is something I meant never to tell anybody,” she said when at last Yootha had succeeded in comforting her to some extent. “But what you have told me about your love for Captain Preston has brought it all back afresh. If I tell you, will you promise on your word never to tell a living soul?” “Of course I will. I promise now, and on my word. What is it, Cora? I have confided in you completely, so surely you can confide in me? You know I can keep a secret, don’t you, dear? Now tell me all about it.” For some moments Cora remained silent, at intervals mopping her eyes with her pocket-handkerchief. Then at last she said, speaking in a low tone: “You remember Sir Stephen Lethbridge?” “Remember him? Why, of course.” “Yootha, I was dreadfully in love with him! I was in love with him when I married, and after my marriage my love for him increased so that I hardly knew what to do.” “But why have you never told me this before, dear? I had not the slightest suspicion. Did Henry suspect anything?” “No. But then Henry was extraordinarily obtuse. When I read in the newspaper the account of the tragedy, he was in the room, but I managed to conceal my feelings and to speak and act as though nothing unusual had occurred. How I did it I don’t know. And next day when we all lunched at the Ritz, the day Captain Preston was introduced to you, I showed nothing, did I? Yet my heart was almost breaking.” She paused a moment, and then continued: “And that day--Henry died! Oh, if only he had died a little sooner, before poor Stephen had made away with himself--just think, Yootha, I might have saved Stephen, he might be alive to-day, and----”