"Do you mean what you say?
Isn't it, to you--as bad as that?"
"No--no," she soothed him. "You see, I love you. That's all the
difference, isn't it? You've been everything to me. You've made my
life--that used to be so gray--so bright, so sweet. Only the blackest
thing--oh, an unimaginably blackest thing!--could come between us,
or----"
Before she could finish, he was on his knees at her feet, holding her in
his arms, crushing her against his breast, soft and yielding in her light
dressing-gown, with her flowing hair.
"My God, Annesley, it's too good to be true!" he said, his breath hot
on her face as he kissed her cheek, her hair, her eyes. "You can
_forgive_ me? I thought you'd go away. I thought you'd refuse to let
me come near you. I was walking out there wondering how to make it easy
for you--whether I could get rid of myself without scandal."
She had been sure that he must have repented long ago, and that it would
hurt him dreadfully to have her find out the thing he had done, but she
had not dreamed that his self-abasement would be so complete. She put
her arms around him as he held her, and pressed his head against her
neck--the dear, smooth black head which she loved better than ever in
this rush of pardoning pity.
Pages:
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294