"To all intents and purposes. There was a technical obstacle to a legal divorce, but he tried for one. We parted sorely against my will, for I loved him, and now it is over nineteen years since I saw him last, or heard of him or from him. But he was absolutely blameless. Unless, indeed, it is to be counted blame to him that he could not bear what no other man could have borne. I cannot possibly give you all details. But I wish you to hear this that I have to tell you from myself. It is painful to me to tell, but it would be far worse that you should hear it from any one else. I feel sure it is safe to tell you; that you will not talk of it to others--least of all to that little chick of mine." "You may trust me--indeed, you may--without reserve. I see you wish to tell me no more, so I will not ask it." "And blame me as little as possible?" "I cannot blame you." "Before you say that, listen to as much as I can tell you of the story. I was a young girl when I went out alone to be married to him in India. We had parted in England eight months before, and he had remained unchanged--his letters all told the same tale. I quarrelled with my mother--as I now see most unreasonably--merely because she wished to marry again. Perhaps she was a little to blame not to be more patient with a headstrong, ill-regulated girl. I was both. It ended in my writing out to him in India that I should come out and marry him at once. My mother made no opposition." She remained silent for a little, and her eyes fell. Then she spoke with more effort, rather as one who answers her own thoughts. "No, I need say nothing of the time between. It was no excuse for the wrong I did _him_. I can tell you what that was...." It did not seem easy, though, when it came to actual words. Fenwick spoke into the pause. "Why tell me now? Tell me another time." "I prefer now. It was this way: I kept something back from him till after we were married--something I should have told him before. Had I done so, I believe to this moment we should never have parted. But my concealment threw doubt on all else I said.... I am telling more than I meant to tell." She hesitated again, and then went on. "That was my wrong to him--the concealment. But, of course, it was not the ground of the divorce proceedings." Fenwick stopped her again. "Why tell me any more? You are being led on--are leading yourself on--to say more than you wish."