She had basely made herself vile.

She had struck ruthlessly at the great heart of a man who loved her.

Ah! That thrust had rebounded to leave this dreadful pang in her breast.

Loved her?
Yes, the strange truth, the insupportable truth! She had to contend now, not with her father and her disgrace, not with the baffling presence of Jean Isbel, but with the mysteries of her own soul.

Wonder of all wonders was it that such love had been born for her.