She remembered Henry's words when he had implored her to tell him what were the actual wishes of her heart--and how she had cut off all retreat by her answer.

She remembered all his goodness to her and how she had accepted it as her due, making him care for her more and more as each day came.
"I have been a hopeless coward," she moaned, "a paltry, vain, hopeless coward.

I should have owned Michael was my husband immediately.

Henry could have got over it then, and now we might be happy--but it is too late; there is nothing to be done----!" Then she buried her face in her hands and sobbed brokenly.

"Oh, my love, my love--and I did not even now tell you all." The clock struck one--supper would be beginning and she must go down.