any other man. He knew now that she had remained single because of him.
For him her impatience had been patience, her fiery heart had spilled
itself in tenderness for his misfortunes. She who had lightly tossed
lovers aside, her coquetry appeased, had to himself shown sincerity
without coquetry, loyalty without selfishness. He knew well that she had
been his champion in dark days, that he had received far more from her
than he had ever given--even of friendship. In his own absorbing love
for Guida Landresse, during long years he had been unconsciously blind to
a devotion which had lived on without hope, without repining, with
untiring cheerfulness.

In those three days spent on the top of the Perch Rock how blithe garcon
Carterette had been! Danger had seemed nothing to her. She had the
temper of a man in her real enjoyment of the desperate chances of life.
He had never seen her so buoyant; her animal spirits had never leapt so
high. And yet, despite the boldness which had sent her to the top of
Perch Rock with him, there had been in her whole demeanour a frank
modesty free from self-consciousness. She could think for herself, she
was sure of herself, and she would go to the ends of the earth for him.
Surely he had not earned such friendship, such affection.

He recalled how, the night before, as he sat by their little camp-fire,
she had come and touched him on the shoulder, and, looking down at him,
said:

"I feel as if I was beginning my life all over again, don't you, Maitre
Ranulph?"

Her black eyes had been fixed on his, and the fire in them was as bright
and full of health and truth as the fire at his feet.