"It came on suddenly, while I was sitting here. It will pass off as
suddenly," he said, trying to smile, and holding out his hand, which she
took at once in hers.

"Is it your heart, Guy? Do you think it is your heart?" she continued,
as she rubbed and caressed his cold, clammy hand.

A shadow of pain or remorse flitted across Guy's face as he replied:

"I think it is my heart, but I assure you there is no danger--the worst
is over. I am a great deal better."

And he was better with that fair girl beside him, her face glowing with
excitement and her soft hands pressing his. Perfectly healthy herself,
she must have imparted some life and vigor to him, for he felt his pulse
grow steadier beneath her touch, and the blood flow more easily through
his veins.

If only he could forget that crumpled letter which lay in his vest
pocket and seemed to burn into his flesh; forget that and the young girl
across the sea, watching for an answer and the one word "Come!" he might
be happy yet, for Julia was one whom any man could love and be proud to
call his wife. And Guy said to himself that he did love her, though not
as he once loved Daisy, or as he could love her again were he free to do
so, and because of that full love withheld he made a mental vow that his
whole life should be given to her happiness, so that she might never
know any care or sorrow from which he could shield her.

"And Daisy?" something whispered in his ear.