"We must speak of it now, Grizel," he said, when he knew that he was
dying.

She pressed his hand. She knew to what he was referring. "Yes," she
said, "I should love you to speak of it now."

"You and I have always fought shy of it," he said, "making a pretence
that it had altogether passed away. I thought that was best for you."

"Dearest, darlingest," she said, "I know--I have always known."

"And you," he said, "you pretended because you thought it was best for
me."

She nodded. "And we saw through each other all the time," she said.

"Grizel, has it passed away altogether now?"

Her grip upon his hand did not tighten in the least. "Yes," she could
say honestly, "it has altogether passed away."

"And you have no more fear?"

"No, none."

It was his great reward for all that he had done for Grizel.

"I know what you are thinking of," she said, when he did not speak.
"You are thinking of the haunted little girl you rescued seven years
ago."