"God has used me better than I deserved," he muttered gruffly. "He has let me prove--prove to the hilt--that there is such a thing as a perfectly noble woman. Virginia, there shall be a way out for you. If you think my word of any value, I give it solemnly. I will make things right somehow. I may not be able to do it at once; I must think the matter over carefully. In the meantime, I want you to understand my position." He paused a moment, and then spoke more fluently, as if the thing he expressed had long been in his mind and so came easily from his lips. "When I first met you I had been, to all intents and purposes, a madman for twenty years. I had not been twenty-four hours your husband before I came to myself. It was as though--only I can't express it--as though your innocence were a looking-glass, in which I saw the kind of thing I am. Ever since, I have been your humble servant. I--I tried to let you see this, but of course it was hopeless. You were ill, and they told me to keep out of your way. Then, when you left me ... your heart was full of your little sister, occupied with your own grief. I couldn't force on you the consideration of mine." He paused, and she knew it was to summon command of his voice. "And the idea came to me that I would wait--that I would find out, for a certainty, that you really were as fine as I had grown to think you. I wanted to prove that you were heroic enough to come back to--to the sort of thing which, as you believed, awaited you here. So I wouldn't write to you as I longed to ... I just kept silence ... and you came. You are here ... I am such a fool at saying what I mean, but I must make you understand that, for so long as it may be necessary for you to remain, you are sacred. I--I will ask you to let me eat with you, and be with you sometimes, because of--er--the household. But once for all, I want you to feel quite sure that you have nothing to fear from me." Thus, for the second time in her knowledge of him, the man broke through his taciturnity. She could not know that this outburst was far more characteristic of the real Osbert Gaunt than the sullen, frozen surface hitherto presented. She had no words in which to answer it. The world had turned upside down, she could not reason, could not think out what this might ultimately mean for her. She could not grasp the fact of her husband's complete change of front. Seated in the old chair, worn shiny with many years of usage, she laid her hands upon its arms and lifted her eyes to his, first in wonder, then in a gladness which shone out in a smile that transfigured her pale face. He was quite near--almost stooping over her, and he held his breath with the intensity of the thrill that ran through him. "O-o-oh!" she cooed tremulously. "Oh, Osbert!"