"Daisy! Daisy, my darling!" she said, and there was anguish in her own voice. "What is it?"

In a second the sobbing ceased as if some magic had silenced it.

Two hands reached up out of the darkness and tightly clasped hers. A broken voice whispered her name.

"What is it?" Muriel repeated in growing distress.

"Hush, dear, hush!" the trembling voice implored. "Don't let Will hear! It worries him so."

"But, my darling,--" Muriel protested.

She began to feel for some matches, but again the nervous hands caught and imprisoned hers.

"Don't--please!" Daisy begged her earnestly. "I--I have something to tell you--something that will shock you unutterably. And I--I don't want you to see my face."

She resisted Muriel's attempt to put her arms about her. "No--no, dear! Hear me first. There! Let me kneel beside you. It will not take me long. It isn't just for my own sake I am going to speak, nor yet--entirely--for yours. You will see presently. Don't ask me anything--please--till I have done. And then if--if there is anything you want to know, I will try to tell you."

"Come and lie beside me," Muriel urged.

But Daisy would not. She had sunk very low beside the bed. For a while she crouched there in silence while she summoned her strength.

Then, "Oh, Muriel," she suddenly said, and the words seemed to burst from her with a great sigh, "I wonder if you ever really loved Blake."

"No, dear, I never did." Muriel's answer came quiet and sincere through the darkness. "Nor did he love me. Our engagement was a mistake. I was going to tell him so--if things had been different."

"I never thought you cared for him," Daisy said. "But oh, Muriel, I did. I loved him with my whole soul. No, don't start! It is over now--at least that part of it that was sinful. I only tell you of it because it is the key to everything that must have puzzled you so horribly all this time. We always loved each other from the very beginning, but our people wouldn't hear of it because we were cousins.

And so we separated and I used to think that I had put it away from me. But--last summer--it all came back. You mustn't blame him, Muriel.

Blame me--blame me!" The thin hands tightened convulsively. "It was when my baby died that I began to give way. We never meant it--either of us--but we didn't fight hard enough. And then at last--at Brethaven--Nick found it out; and it was because he knew that Blake's heart was not in his compact with you that he made him write to you and break it off. It was not for his own ends at all that he did it.

It was for your sake alone. He even swore to Blake that if he would put an end to his engagement, he on his part would give up all idea of winning you and would never trouble you any more. And that was the finest thing he ever did, Muriel, for he never loved any one but you.

Surely you know it. You must know it by this time. You have never understood him, but you must have begun to realise that he has loved you well enough to set your happiness and well-being always far, far before his own."

Daisy paused. Her weeping had wholly ceased, but she was shivering from head to foot.

Muriel sat in silence above her, watching wide-eyed, unseeing, the vague hint of light at the open window. She was beginning to understand many things--ah, many things--that had been as a sealed book to her till then.

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 a.s.serted 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 a.s.sented. "I don't know. I don't feel as if I shall ever hold another child in my arms. G.o.d 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 pa.s.sionate.

"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?"

Muriel moved impulsively, hiding her face in her friend's neck. But she said no word in answer.

Daisy went on softly, as though she had spoken. "He is still waiting for you. I think he will wait all his life, though he will never come to you again unless you call him. Won't you--can't you--send him just one little word?"

"How can I?" The words broke suddenly from Muriel as though she could no longer restrain them. "How can I possibly?"

"It could be done," Daisy said. "I know he is still somewhere in India though he has left the Army. We could get a message to him at any time."

"Oh, but I couldn't--I couldn't!" Muriel had begun to tremble violently. There was a sound of tears in her deep voice. "Besides--he wouldn't come."

"My dear, he would," Daisy a.s.sured her. "He would come to you directly if he only knew that you wanted him. Muriel, surely you are not--not too proud to let him know!"

"Proud! Oh, no, no!" There was almost a moan in the words. Muriel's head sank a little lower. "Heaven knows I'm not proud," she said.

"I am ashamed--miserably ashamed. I have trampled on his love so often--so often. How could I ask him for it--now?"

"Ah, but if he came to you," Daisy persisted, "if in spite of all he came to you, you wouldn't send him away?"

"Send him away!" A sudden note of pa.s.sion thrilled in Muriel's voice.

She lifted her head sharply. With the tears upon her cheeks she yet spoke with a certain exultation. "I--I would follow him barefoot across the world," she said, "if--if he would only lift one finger to call me. But oh, Daisy,"--her confidence vanished at a breath--"where's the use of talking? He never, never will."

"He will if you let him know," Daisy answered with conviction. "Don't you think you can, dear? Give me just one word for him--one tiny message that he will understand. Only trust him this once--just this once! Give him his opportunity--he has never had one before, poor boy--and I know, I know, he will not throw it away."

"You don't think he will--laugh?" Muriel whispered.

"My dear child, no! Nick doesn't laugh at sacred things."

Muriel's face was burning in the darkness. She covered it with her hands as though it could be seen.

For a few seconds she sat very still. Then slowly but steadily she spoke.

"Tell him then, Daisy, from me, that 'Love conquers all things--and we must yield to Love.'"