“You must have something to eat,” urged Hilda.  “You’ve had nothing whatever.”

He frowned impatiently.  “Oh, rats!  I can feed on board.  I shan’t starve.”

But she knew, with sure intuition, that the moment he was out of her presence all thought of refreshment would leave his mind.

She saw him go, and then returned to Chris.

She found her sitting up in bed, rocking herself to and fro, and crying, crying, crying, the tears of utter despair.  But this distress, despite its violence, was better—­Hilda knew it instinctively—­than her former cold inertia.  She gathered her to her breast, and held her close pressed till her anguish had somewhat spent itself.

By degrees and haltingly the story of Chris’s tragedy was unfolded.

“I’ve told Jack everything,” she said at last.  “And now I’ve told you, but we won’t ever talk about it any more.  Jack is going to see Trevor, and—­and try to make him understand.  I didn’t want him to, but he would do it.  But he has promised me that Trevor shan’t follow me here.  Do you think he will be able to prevent him?  Do you?  Do you?”

She shuddered afresh uncontrollably at the bare thought, and Hilda had some difficulty in calming her.

“Dearest, I am sure he will never come to you against your will,” she said, with conviction.  “I am sure you needn’t be afraid.  But oh, Chris, my darling, he is your husband.  Always remember that!”

“I know!  I know!” Feverishly Chris made answer, and Hilda knew that she must not pursue this subject.  “But I can never see him again, never—­never—­never!  I think it would kill me.  Besides—­besides—­” She broke off inarticulately, and Hilda did not press her to finish.

She found that she must not speak much of Bertrand either, though she did venture to ask why the Valpre escapade had ever been kept from Trevor in the first place.

“I really can’t quite explain,” Chris answered wearily.  “When it dawned on me that vile things had been said and actually a duel fought because of it I felt as if I would rather die than let him know.  Besides, at the back of my mind, I think I somehow always knew—­though I did not realize—­that—­Bertie—­came first with me, and I—­I was terrified lest Trevor should suspect it.  Of course it doesn’t matter now,” she ended.  “He knows it all, and—­as he says—­we have done with each other.”  She uttered a long, quivering sigh, and turned her face into the pillow.

“My darling, so long as you both live, that can never be,” Hilda said very earnestly.  “Whatever mistakes you have made, you are still his and he is yours.  Nothing can alter that.”

“He doesn’t think so,” said Chris.  “In fact, he—­he told me to go to Bertie, so that—­so that”—­she shivered again—­“he could set me free.”

“Oh, Chris, he did—­that?”

“Yes, I think he meant it for my sake as much as for his own.  But I couldn’t do it.  You see, I don’t know where Bertie has gone for one thing.  And then—­I know Bertie would have thought it wrong.  You see”—­the tears were running down her face again—­“we love each other so much, and—­and love like ours is holy.  He said so.”