After a time Daisy went on.  “No one will ever know what Nick was to me at that time, how he showed me the wickedness of it all, how he held me back from taking the final step, making me realise—­even against my will—­that Love—­true Love—­is holy, conquering all evil.  And afterwards—­afterwards—­when Blake was gone—­he stood by me and helped me to live, and brought me back at last to my husband.  I could never have done it alone.  I hadn’t the strength.  You see”—­the low voice faltered suddenly—­“I never expected Will to forgive me.  I never asked it of him—­any more than I am asking it of you.”

“Oh, my darling, there is no need!” Muriel turned suddenly to throw impetuous arms about the huddled figure at her side.  “Daisy!  Daisy!  I love you.  Let us forget there has ever been this thing between us.  Let us be as we used to be, and never drift apart again.”

Tenderly but insistently, she lifted Daisy to the bed beside her, holding her fast.  The wall between them was broken down at last.  They clung together as sisters long parted.

Daisy, spent by the violence of her emotion, lay for a long time in Muriel’s arms without attempting anything further.  But at length with a palpable effort she began to speak of other things.

“You know, I have a feeling—­perhaps it is morbid—­that I am not going to live.  I am sure Will thinks so too.  If I die, Muriel,—­three months from now—­you and Nick must help him all you can.”

“You are not going to die,” Muriel asserted vehemently.  “You are not to talk of dying, or think of it.  Oh, Daisy, can’t you look forward to the better time that is coming—­when you will have something to live for?  And won’t you try to think more of Will?  It would break his heart to lose you.”

“I do think of him,” Daisy said wearily.  “I would do anything to make him happier.  But I can’t look forward.  I am so tired—­so tired.”

“You will feel differently by-and-by,” Muriel whispered.

“Perhaps,” she assented.  “I don’t know.  I don’t feel as if I shall ever hold another child in my arms.  God knows I don’t deserve it.”

“Do you think He looks at it in that way?” murmured Muriel, her arms tightening.  “There wouldn’t be much in life for any of us if He did.”

“I don’t know,” Daisy said again.

She lay quiet for a little as though pondering something.  Then at length hesitatingly she spoke.  “Muriel, there is one thing that whether I live or whether I die I want with my whole heart.  May I tell you what it is?”

“Of course, dear.  What is it?”

Daisy turned in her arms, holding her in a clasp that was passionate.  “My darling,” she whispered very earnestly, “I would give all I have in the world to know you happy with—­with the man you love.”

Silence followed the words.  Muriel had become suddenly quite still; her head was bent.

“Don’t—­don’t bar me out of your confidence,” Daisy implored her tremulously.  “There is so little left for me to do now.  Muriel—­dearest—­you do love him?”