II est tres tendre!" The staff-officer "furthered the Viceroy's business" by clasping both of Alixe Delavigne's prettily-gloved hands.

Her bosom heaved in a soft alarm, but she repulsed him not.
"Why did you deceive me at Geneva ?" he eagerly demanded, with a trembling voice.

And Alixe Delavigne's eyes were downcast and dreamy, as she whispered: "Because I was only a poor pilgrim of Love--a lonely woman, heart hungry for the tidings of the girl whom you have brought back to me!" The young officer gazed out of the window, and in his heart, he already pardoned her.
"To those who love much, much shall be forgiven!" he reflected, with a compassion growing momentarily, for he saw the shadow of tears in the beautiful dark brown eyes.

And he forbore to question her as he gazed at her glowing face.
With a sudden lifting of her stately head, the woman sitting there, her heart throbbing in a strange unrest, laid her hand lightly upon his arm.
"Listen to the strange story of a woman's life!" she said slowly.

"I promised His Excellency, the Viceroy, that you should know why I left the defensive lines of my sex at Geneva! For he has trusted to me, and I wish you to know--to know that--" and the sentence was never finished, for Captain Anstruther bent over her trembling hands.
"I know that you are what I would have you ever be!" he simply said.
And, with softly shining eyes, she told the soldier of her strange life path.
It was strange that they had neared London before the whole story was concluded, and their voices had sunk into softened whispers.