“I am very sorry for you—I am indeed, if you won’t be angry with me for saying so. It is cruel that you should have to suffer like this for no fault of your own. It would kill me if I found myself in the same position—yes, I am sure that it would.” “Luckily, or unluckily, it doesn’t kill me, miss, though sometimes it is hard enough to bear. You see that the burden is laid upon the broadest back, and I can carry what would crush you. Still, I thank you for your sympathy and the kind thought which made you speak it. I have very few memories of that sort, and I shall never forget this one.” For another five minutes or so they went on without speaking, since their fount of conversation seemed to have dried up. At length, beginning to feel the silence irksome, Emma stopped and held out her hand, saying that she would now return. “Would you listen to a word or two from me before you go, miss? And would you promise not to repeat it no, not to Mr. Levinger even?” said Joan suddenly. “Certainly, if you wish it. What is it about?” “About you and myself and another person. Miss Levinger, I am going away from here—I believe for good—and I think it likely that we shall not meet again. It is this that makes me bold to speak to you. When I am gone you will hear all sorts of tales about me and Sir Henry.” “Really—really!” said Emma, in some distress. “Listen to me, miss: there is nothing very dreadful, and I speak for your own good. While all this sickness was on I learned something I learned that you are fond of Sir Henry, never mind how——” “I know how,” murmured Emma. “Oh! did you tell him?” “I told him nothing; indeed, I had nothing to tell. I saw you faint, and I guessed the rest. What I want to ask you is this: that you will believe no stories which may be told against Sir Henry, for he is quite blameless. Now I have only one thing more to say, and it is, that I have watched him and known him well; and, if you do not cling to him through good and through evil, you will be foolish indeed, for there is no better man, and you will never find such another for a husband. I wish that it may all come about, and that you may be happy with him through a long life, Miss Levinger.” Emma heard, and, though vaguely as yet, understood all the nobility and self-sacrifice of her rival. She also loved this man, and she renounced him for the sake of his own welfare. Otherwise she would never have spoken thus. “I do not know what to answer you,” she said. “I do not deny it is true that I am attached to Sir Henry, though I have no right to be. What am I to answer you?” “Nothing, except this: that under any circumstances you will not believe a word against him.” “I can promise that, if it pleases you.” “It does please me; for, wherever I am, I should like to think of you and of him as married and happy, for I know that he will make you a good husband, as you will make him a good wife. And now again, good-bye.”