dare confess now that which even to myself I have never dared confess. I
suppose the truth of it is that I have loved you all my life."

"I am sorry. I am not worth it, Simon."

"No; you are immeasurably far from being worth it. But one does not justify
these fancies by mathematics. Good-bye, Anastasia."


V

Holding the door ajar, the Vicar of Heriz Magna heard a horse's hoofs slap
their leisurely way down the hillside. Presently the sound died and he
turned back into the hall.

"A brave woman, that! Oh, a trifling, shallow-hearted jilt, but a brave
creature!

"I had to lie to her. She would have stayed else. And perhaps it is true
that, in reality, I have loved her all my life,--or in any event, have
hankered after the pink-and-white flesh of her as any gentleman might.
Pschutt! a pox on all lechery says the dying man,--since it is now
necessary to put that strapping yellow-haired trollop out of your mind,
Simon Orts--yes, after all these years, to put her quite out of your mind.
Faith, she might wheedle me now to her heart's content, and my pulse would
never budge; for I must devote what trivial time there is to hoping they
will kill me quickly. He was their god, that man!"

Simon Orts went toward the dead body, looking down into the distorted face.
"And I, too, loved him. Yes, such as he was, he was the only friend I