"No, you do not know it," he said. "You do not even guess it. But I must tell you now. Take care. Be strong, be brave. It will hurt you." While he was speaking Mrs. Darche rose from the sofa and her expression slowly changed as she realised that he had something grave to tell her. She rose slowly, steadying herself, but not taking her eyes from his face. "Tell me, please. I am ready." "John Darche is alive, and I have known it almost from the first." It seemed to Brett that nothing he had ever done in his life had been half so hard. Marion stared at him for a moment, and then once more sank slowly into her seat and covered her face. "Do you understand me now?" he asked after a long pause. "Do you see now why I have fought so hard against telling you this thing?" "It is better so," she answered in a low and indistinct tone. "It was better that I should know it now." Then she was silent for a long time. "And is that all you have to tell me after all that I have told you?" she asked at last, as though in a dream. "All? All, dear?" Suddenly his resolution broke down. "You know it is not all. I love you--that is all, indeed--and more than I have the right to say or you to hear." "A right! What is right? Where is right now?" "Where you are, dear." He was holding both her hands in his. Then all at once a light came into her face. "And we can make the rest right, too! Are there no laws? Is there no justice? If this man who has ruined both our lives is not dead--ah! but he is! I know he is. What proof have you? How can you stand there and tell me that I am still bound and tied to a man whose very name is a stain on me, whose mere memory is a disgrace." "How do I know?" repeated Brett. "It is simple enough. He has written to me. I have his letters. Do you care to see them? Do you know what he says? What he repeats whenever he writes? He began a few days after we heard of his supposed death. I know the letter by heart. 'My dear Brett--I am not dead at all. I know that you love my wife, but I do not propose that you should be happy at my expense. If you try to marry her I shall be at the wedding to forbid the banns.'" "He wrote that? He wrote that in his own hand?" The strange emotions that were chasing each other in her heart found quick expression in her face. "And he has written it often. Would it have made you happier to know it during all these months? Or could I have looked you in the face as an honourable man and told you that I loved you when I alone knew that your husband was alive?" He had drawn back from her now and stood leaning against the mantelpiece with folded arms. "Oh, I see it all! I see it all now!" she said. "How brave you have been! How good! And now he is coming back to find some new way of hurting us! Oh it is too much! I thought I had borne all. But you were right. There was more to bear."