“Poor little one! I wish that you would die now, just as you are; then I should never have the pain of resigning you to one who has a better right to you than I have, and in whose love you will utterly forget him who has had no thought but of you since first he saw your beautiful face.” But he did not have his wish granted, for presently Pansy revived of herself, and looked up dreamily into his face. “I--I--fainted, did I not?” she murmured slowly. Then, remembering his illness, she asked: “Are you better?” “Yes,” he answered, but his face was ghastly as he said it. Making a brave effort for calmness, he added: “You stayed away so long, Pansy, that I grew uneasy, and came to seek you.” “While I selfishly forgot you in my absorption. Oh, forgive me! forgive me!” she cried remorsefully. “There is nothing to forgive. Your news was startling enough to excuse you for everything,” he replied patiently. Drawing a chair near her, he continued wistfully: “It must have been a great shock of joy to you, Pansy, to find that Norman Wylde was your true husband, instead of the false-hearted wretch we deemed him.” “Yes,” she murmured faintly. “And you will wish to be restored to him at once, dear?” he continued, masking with a brave effort the pain he felt in speaking those words. She started wildly. “But--I--belong--to--you!” she faltered. “No, dear. The ceremony that bound you to me is void in law, since you had a husband living when I married you. You are free of any claim of mine. Shall you go at once to him, or will you write for him to come for you?” She read his keen anxiety in his ghastly face, and it came to her suddenly that her happiness would prove a deathblow to this good man, who was so devoted to her that it seemed impossible for his enfeebled heart to bear the shock of her loss. Looking up at him with troubled eyes, she said: “Leave me here alone till morning, that I may decide what is best for me to do.” CHAPTER XXXIX. REACHING A DECISION. Colonel Falconer would never forget as long as he lived, nor would Pansy, the awful suspense of that night. He spent it among the mountains, walking hard all night, in order to overcome his misery by sheer physical weakness. She spent it on her knees by her bedside, praying. It seemed to her that it would be wrong to desert Colonel Falconer and go back to her dear love, her faithful husband, even though she really belonged to him, for it would surely break Colonel Falconer’s heart. “And how could I be happy even with my beloved Norman and our darling child, if I knew that I had caused the death of one who loved me so well, and who had died for my sake?” the generous young wife kept saying over and over to herself, and resolutely shutting out of her heart all thoughts of the happiness she could have if she returned to Norman.