His
wife, in whom he had so trusted, had loved another before him; and at
the bitter truth, John Ashford utterly broke down, and, hiding his face
in the counterpane, sobbed like a child. Tears sometimes are Nature's
own medicine, and do more to soften the heart than any words. After the
first shock had worn away, Ashford commenced to look back on the happy
days he had spent with Lucy; the way she had worked with him, and for
him. These thoughts did their healing work, and accordingly, a few days
later, when Lucy Ashford returned to consciousness, she found her
husband's eyes gazing into hers with only pitying tenderness in their
depths.
"John," she said faintly, "have I been ill?"
"Yes, dear," he replied gently.
Something in his saddened tones, or perhaps strange intuition, told Lucy
that her secret was no longer hers alone.
"John!" she cried, her voice shaking with terror and weakness. "You know
all!" And she hid her face in her hands.
Her husband bent over her tenderly and kissed the thin cheek.
"Yes, dear," he said. "You've told me all. Why didn't you trust me
before?"
She looked at him in wonder, hardly believing the evidence of her own
ears.
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