That you should suffer this way alone is torture to me.

You cannot, you shall not live another day as you have! Let me help!" Instantly there flashed into her mind the story Martha had brought in from the street.

"He has heard it," she said to herself, "but he does not believe it, and he comes to comfort me.

I cannot tell the truth without betraying Lucy." She drew a step farther from him.
"You refer to what the people about us call a mystery--that poor little child upstairs ?" she said slowly, all her self-control in her voice.
"You think it is a torture for me to care for this helpless baby?
It is not a torture; it is a joy--all the joy I have now." She stood looking at him as she spoke with searching eyes, wondering with the ever-questioning doubt of those denied love's full expression.
"But I know--" "You know nothing--nothing but what I have told you; and what I have told you is the truth.

What I have not told you is mine to keep.