"I saw you leave the inn," she said, drawing near the comparatively sheltered spot, where he stood, "and knowing you would soon sail, followed. There is something I wanted to say, and--and felt I should have no other chance to tell you!" Had she read what was passing in his brain, she would not have faced him, so confident; but, ignorant of what he had learned, the cause of varying lights in his dark eyes, the tender play of emotion on his strong features, she broached her subject with steadfastness of purpose. "You went away so suddenly the last time, I had no opportunity, then, to thank you for all that you did; and so, I do now--thank you, I mean! Also," a touch of prouder constraint in her tone, "I appreciate your over-generous proposal through Pierre Laroche; although, of course," her figure very straight, "I could not--it was impossible--to entertain it. But I am glad you were able to prove. You will understand--and," my lady ended quickly, "I thank you!" He looked at her long. "It is I who am in your debt!" "You?" Her brows lifted. "Yes." "I--don't think I quite understand." In spite of herself and her resolution, the proud eyes seemed to shrink from a nameless something in his gaze. "Nor I! Nanette was talking with me last night!" "Nanette!" In words, direct, unequivocal, he told her what he had learned; and although my lady laughed, as at something absurd, and strove to maintain an unvarying mien, his eyes challenged evasion; demanded truth! At that moment the space where they stood seemed, perhaps, too small; to hem her very closely in--too closely--as, drawing back, she touched the hard rocky wall! "Why?" Still endeavoring to regard him as if the charge could only be preposterous, too unreasonable to answer, she was, nevertheless, conscious of the flame on her face--tacit refutation of the denials in her eyes! "Why?" she repeated. "That is just what I was asking myself when I saw you, my Lady." "And, of course, knowing there could be no--that it was too senseless--" The words she was searching for failed her; she looked toward the path over the neck of rock, but he continued to stand between it and her. "I have heard the story in all its details; all that passed at the Mount, while Nanette was there. And," instead of having undermined his belief, she felt she had only strengthened it, "I am sure you went to the Monastery St. Ranulphe, knowing--" "You are sure!" she interrupted quickly. "It wasn't long ago you were sure it was I who betrayed you, and--" "I was wrong, then; but," his eyes continued to meet hers, "I am not wrong now." Behind her, my lady's hand closed hard on the rock. "Deny it!" his voice went on. "In so many words!" "Why should I?" She caught her breath quickly. "I denied something to you once, and you did not believe." "I'll believe you now!"