Did he think of her sometimes, at night, under the stars, or in the blaze and mirage of noon?  Yes, yes; he thought of her.  Each to the other their thoughts must travel while they lived.

In Delafield’s eyes, she knew, his love for her had been mere outrage and offence.

Ah, well, he, at least, had needed her.  He had desired only very simple, earthy things—­money, position, success—­things it was possible for a woman to give him, or get for him; and at the last, though it were only as a traitor to his word and his fiancee, he had asked for love—­asked commonly, hungrily, recklessly, because he could not help it—­and then for pardon!  And those are things the memory of which lies deep, deep in the pulsing, throbbing heart.

At this point she hurriedly checked and scourged herself, as she did a hundred times a day.

No, no, no!  It was all over, and she and Jacob would still make a fine thing of their life together.  Why not?

And all the time there were burning hot tears in her eyes; and as the leaves of Saint-Simon passed idly through her fingers, the tears blotted out the meadows and the flowers, and blurred the figure of a young girl who was slowly mounting the long slope of road that led from the village of Brent towards the seat on which Julie was sitting.

* * * * *

Gradually the figure approached.  The mist cleared from Julie’s eyes.  Suddenly she found herself giving a close and passionate attention to the girl upon the road.

Her form was slight and small; under her shady hat there was a gleam of fair hair arranged in smooth, shining masses about her neck and temples.  As she approached Julie she raised her eyes absently, and Julie saw a face of singular and delicate beauty, marred, however, by the suggestion of physical fragility, even sickliness, which is carried with it.  One might have thought it a face blanched by a tropical climate, and for the moment touched into faint color by the keen Alpine air.  The eyes, indeed, were full of life; they were no sooner seen but they defined and enforced a personality.  Eager, intent, a little fretful, they expressed a nervous energy out of all proportion to their owner’s slender physique.  In this, other bodily signs concurred.  As she perceived Julie on the bench, for instance, the girl’s slight, habitual frown sharply deepened; she looked at the stranger with keen observation, both glance and gesture betraying a quick and restless sensibility.

As for Julie, she half rose as the girl neared her.  Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted; she had the air of one about to speak.  The girl looked at her in a little surprise and passed on.

She carried a book under her arm, into which were thrust a few just-opened letters.  She had scarcely passed the bench when an envelope fell out of the book and lay unnoticed on the road.

Julie drew a long breath.  She picked up the envelope.  It lay in her hand, and the name she had expected to see was written upon it.