I would have saved you pain." Henry staggered to the wall of the summer-house and leant there.

His face was ashen-gray in the afternoon's dying light.
"Oh, how hopelessly blind I have been!" The priest unclasped his tightly-locked hands; his old eyes were full of pity as he answered: "We may both have made mistakes.

You are more aware of the circumstances than I am.

The Seigneur of Arranstoun is the only man she has seen here besides yourself.

You perhaps know whom she met in England, or Paris ?" "It is Michael Arranstoun," Henry said in a voice strangled and altered with suffering.