"I was your husband, Mercy Falchion. I was drowned, but this man"--he turned and touched my shoulder--"this man brought me back to life. I wanted to be dead to the world. I begged him to keep my secret. A sailor's corpse was buried in my shroud, and I lived. At Aden I stole from the boat in the night. I came to America--to Canada--to begin a new life under a new name, never to see you again. . . . Do not, do not speak to me--unless I am not to lose you again; unless I am to know that now you forgive me--that you forgive me--and wish me to live--my wife!" She put both her hands out, a strange, sorrowful look in her eyes, and said: "I have sinned--I have sinned." He took her hands in his. "I know," he said, "that you do not love me yet; but you may some day." "No," she said, "I do not love you; but . . . . I am glad you live. Let us--go home." THE END. ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: A heart-break for that kind is their salvation A man may be forgiven for a sin, but the effect remains A man you could bank on, and draw your interest reg'lar All he has to do is to be vague, and look prodigious (Scientist) Death is not the worst of evils Every true woman is a mother, though she have no child Fear a woman are when she hates, and when she loves He didn't always side with the majority He had neither self-consciousness nor fear Her own suffering always set her laughing at herself Learned what fools we mortals be Love can outlive slander Men do not steal up here: that is the unpardonable crime She had provoked love, but had never given it "Still the end of your existence," I rejoined--"to be amused?" The happy scene of the play before the villain comes in The threshold of an acknowledged love There are things we repent of which cannot be repaired There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world Think that a woman gives the heart for pleasant weather only? Thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart Time a woman most yearns for a man is when she has refused him Would look back and not remember that she had a childhood