So we stood there facing one another for a full minute, at a loss for words.  A wreath of immortelles lay upon the grave.  In my heart I thanked her for the gift, but could not speak.  It seemed as though the hillock that parted us were some impassable barrier to words.  Had I but guessed the truth I should have known that, unseen and unsuspected, across that foot or two of turf was stretched a gulf we were never more to cross:  between our lives lay the body of my friend; and not his only, but many a pallid corpse that with its mute lips cursed our loves.

Presently Claire raised her head and spoke.

“Jasper, you have much to forgive me, and I hardly dare ask your forgiveness.  It is too late to ask forgiveness of a dead man, but could he hear now I would entreat him to pardon the folly that wrought this cruel mistake.”

“Claire, you could not know.  How was it possible to guess?”

“That is true, but it is no less cruel.  And I deceived you.  Can you ever forgive?”

“Forgive! forgive what?  That I found my love peerless among women?  Oh, Claire, Claire, ’forgive’?”

“Yes; what matters it that for the moment I have what is called fame?  I deceived you—­yet, believe me, it was only because I thought to make the surprise more pleasant.  I thought—­but it is too late.  Only believe I had no other thought, no other wish.  My poor scheme seemed so harmless at first:  then as the days went on I began to doubt.  But until you told me, as we stood beside the river, of—­ him, I never guessed;—­oh, believe me, I never guessed!”

“Love, do not accuse yourself in this way.  It hurts me to hear you speak so.  If there was any fault it was mine; but the Fates blinded us.  If you had known Tom, you would know that he would forgive could he hear us now.  For me, Claire, what have I to pardon?”

Claire did not answer for a moment.  There was still a trouble in her face, as though something yet remained to be said and she had not the courage to utter it.

“Jasper, there is something besides, which you have to pardon if you can.”

“My love!”

“Do you remember what I asked you that night, when you first told me about him?”

“You asked me a foolish question, if I remember rightly.  You asked if I could ever cease to love you.”

“No, not foolish; I really meant it seriously, and I believed you when you answered me.  Are you of the same mind now?  Believe me, I am not asking lightly.”

“I answer you as I answered you then:  ‘Love is strong as death.’  My love, put away these thoughts and be sure that I love you as my own soul.”

“But perhaps, even so, you might be so angry that—­Oh, Jasper, how can I tell you?”

“Tell me all, Claire.”

“I told you I was called, or that they called me Claire.  Were you not surprised when you saw my name as Clarissa Lambert?”