The Duke nodded. "But I made the condition that our secret should be rigidly guarded—always assuming that Fate did not prove too much for us. She went to the little house on the river at Buntisford, where I used to go for the fishing and shooting. And she gave me ten years of happiness—the only happiness I have known. And then came my breakdown, since when she has nursed me with more than a wife's devotion." His voice failed suddenly and he lay back in his chair with closed eyes.
It was left to Charlotte to break the irksome silence that followed.
"How could you be so mad!" She spoke under her breath not intending her words to be heard, but a quick ear caught them.
"Nay," he said in the tone that was so new to her, "it was the only thing to do. It was the call of the blood. And this was a devoted woman, a woman one could trust implicitly."
"Madness, my friend, madness!"
He shook his head somberly. "All life is a madness, if you will a divine madness. It is a madness that damns the consequences. By taking too much thought for the morrow we entomb ourselves. When Rachel died life meant for me the woman of my choice. And, Charlotte, let me say this"—he raised himself in his chair and looked at his sister fixedly—"she is the best woman I have ever known."
For a moment she sat a picture of bewilderment, and then in a voice torn with emotion she said, "Out of regard for the others things had better go on as they are.
