"Oh, no," he exclaimed, "I had no thought of that. She has not even a
suspicion of what I intend to do. Nor do I wish her to have one until
the intention is fulfilled. My thought was different"--and he began to
speak with hesitation for the first time in the course of that evening.
"I find it difficult to tell you--Ethne said something to me the day
before the feathers came--something rather sacred. I think that I will
tell you, because what she said is just what sends me out upon this
errand. But for her words, I would very likely never have thought of it.
I find in them my motive and a great hope. They may seem strange to you,
Mr. Sutch; but I ask you to believe that they are very real to me. She
said--it was when she knew no more than that my regiment was ordered to
Egypt--she was blaming herself because I had resigned my commission, for
which there was no need, because--and these were her words--because had
I fallen, although she would have felt lonely all her life, she would
none the less have surely known that she and I would see much of one
another--afterwards."
Feversham had spoken his words with difficulty, not looking at his
companion, and he continued with his eyes still averted:--
"Do you understand? I have a hope that if--this fault can be
repaired,"--and he pointed to the feathers,--"we might still, perhaps,
see something of one another--afterwards.
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