"That's what I long for, what I pray for."
"Ah, how can I thank you enough?" I murmured.
"I believe it will all pass—if she loves you," Mrs. Marden continued.
"It will all pass?"
"We shall never see him again."
"Oh, if she loves me I don't care how often I see him!"
"Ah, you take it better than I could," said my companion. "You have the happiness not to know—not to understand."
"I don't indeed. What on earth does he want?"
"He wants to make me suffer." She turned her wan face upon me with this, and I saw now for the first time, fully, how perfectly, if this had been Sir Edmund Orme's purpose, he had succeeded. "For what I did to him," Mrs. Marden explained.
"And what did you do to him?"
She looked at me a moment. "I killed him." As I had seen him fifty yards away only five minutes before the words gave me a start. "Yes, I make you jump; be careful. He's there still, but he killed himself. I broke his heart—he thought me awfully bad. We were to have been married, but I broke it off—just at the last. I saw some one I liked better; I had no reason but that. It wasn't for interest, or money, or position, or any thing of that sort. All those things were his. It was simply that I fell in love with Captain Marden. When I saw him I felt that I couldn't marry any one else. I wasn't in love with Edmund Orme—my mother, my elder sister had brought it about. But he did love me. I told him I didn't care—that I couldn't, that I wouldn't. I threw him over, and he took something, some abominable drug or draught that proved fatal. It was dreadful,
