"I have always loved you, but I didn't understand... Cassandra, there are some things a man can't say, but that night--I had no intention of getting engaged to Teresa. We... the car... there was an accident... she was afraid. I _had_ intended to propose to her months before, when I knew you only as a name. I had given her every reason to suppose that I should... There is not a word to be said against Teresa, but _that_ night I had come straight from you... I don't want you to think--" "Ah!" Cassandra turned her hand to clasp his more firmly. "Need we talk of her now? I know. I understand! We make mistakes; haven't I made my own? but they are past, they can't be helped, and now--we are together! I have waited so long. I don't want to talk of her, or of anyone else, but just ourselves..." Her eyes met his; their message was the same as that of the lips, the beautiful vivid face was close to his own, he saw it with a clearness of detail which had never before been possible. The dark eyelashes grew thickly on the lower lids; underneath the lids the skin had a faint bluish shade. Was that the explanation of the tired look which, even in moments of animation, gave a touch of pathos to her air? The quality of pathos was there at that moment, and with it a fragility which gripped at Dane's heart. He forgot everything but the dearness of her, the nearness of her, the wonder of her love. With an impetuous movement he held out his arms and she met him half-way, swaying into them with a soft murmur of joy. That which Dane had foreseen had come to pass: he had confessed his love to his friend's wife, and she lay wrapped in his arms, yet there was no feeling of guilt in his heart at that moment, and he knew that Cassandra herself felt equally guiltless. The overpowering forces of nature had hurled them together, and they clung helplessly, like two children, dismayed by the dark. "Dane! Dane!" sighed Cassandra tremblingly, "I wanted you, I wanted you! It has been so long lying there alone, all these days, hearing nothing, knowing nothing, having no one to speak to..." "Mrs Beverley--?" "I couldn't. I wasn't sure. It was all so misty and confused at the time that I did not know how much the others had heard... Your voice sounded to me like a trumpet call, bringing me back to life, but it might have been only a whisper. I couldn't tell if she knew, and until I did, I couldn't speak." "And she never--?" "No! Grizel wouldn't. She was just her natural self. _Did_ she know then? You talk as if... Did they both know?" Peignton bowed his head. "Yes. Both. There was no disguise. There was only one thing in the world for me at that moment, and that was you. Heaven knows what I said, but it was enough. Fate has been against us all the way. If it had not been for that accident, no one need have known.--I could have kept it to myself."