"Knew what, child?" He was stooping over her. His hand, trembling still with weakness, was on her head. "But, no, don't tell me!" he said, and his voice was deeply tender. "The fellow is dead, isn't he?" "Oh, yes, he's dead." Quiveringly, between piteous sobs, she answered him. "He--was dying before I reached him--that dreadful night. He just--had strength left--to curse me! And I am cursed! I am cursed!" She flung out her arms wildly, clasping his feet. He stooped lower over her. "Hush--hush!" he said. She did not seem to hear. "I let you take me--I stained your honour--I wasn't a free woman. I tried to think I was; but in my heart--I always knew--I always knew! I wouldn't have your love at first--because I knew. And I came to you--that monsoon night--chiefly because--I wanted--when he came after me--as I knew he would come--to force him--to set me--free." Through bitter sobbing the confession came; in bitter sobbing it ended. But still Merryon's hand was on her head, still his face was bent above her, grave and sad and pitiful, the face of a strong man enduring grief. After a little, haltingly, she spoke again. "And I wasn't coming back to you--ever. Only--someone--a _syce_--told me you had been stricken down. And then I had to come. I couldn't leave you to die. That's all--that's all! I'm going now. And I shan't come back. I'm not--your wife. You're quite, quite free. And I'll never--bring shame on you--again." Her straining hands tightened. She kissed, the feet she clasped. "I'm a wicked, wicked woman," she said. "I was born--on the wrong side--of the safety-curtain. That's no--excuse; only--to make you understand." She would have withdrawn herself then, but his hands held her. She covered her face, kneeling between them. "Why do you want me to understand?" he said, his voice very low. She quivered at the question, making no attempt to answer, just weeping silently there in his hold. He leaned towards her, albeit he was trembling with weakness. "Puck, listen!" he said. "I do understand." She caught her breath and became quite still. "Listen again!" he said. "What is done--is done; and nothing can alter it. But--your future is mine. You have forfeited the right to leave me." She uncovered her face in a flash to gaze at him as one confounded. He met the look with eyes that held her own. "I say it," he said. "You have forfeited the right. You say I am free. Am I free?" She nodded, still with her eyes on his. "I have--no claim on you," she whispered, brokenly. His hands tightened; he brought her nearer to him. "And when that dream of yours comes true," he said, "what then? What then?" Her face quivered painfully at the question. She swallowed once or twice spasmodically, like a hurt child trying not to cry. "That's--nobody's business but mine," she said. A very curious smile drew Merryon's mouth. "I thought I had had something to do with it," he said. "I think I am entitled to part-ownership, anyway."