"Forgive me. I spoke out of my mad misery. I will not disbelieve you again. God knows, I am not myself to-night."
"You can trust me or not, as you please. But if you trust me, it will have to be absolutely. I believe I can see a way through this trouble which will be best for Gareth—best for all. It is of Gareth I think in this. She would trust me."
"Let me go to her," he cried.
"Yes, but not yet. It would not be best. She is quite safe, and if you will but have a little patience, I will bring you together and all may be well with her."
"You talk to me of patience when every vein in my body runs with fire."
"I talk to you of Gareth's happiness, and how possibly to spare her—the only way and that but a possible one," I answered, as I put the letter he had offered me in my pocket.
He pressed his hand to his head. "My God, I cannot be patient," he cried, vehemently.
"You could show patience in the slow ruin of your friend, Colonel Katona. Must I remind you of that? I am here to avenge that wrong, and seek tardy justice for his name and mine. You can help me to avenge the wrong and do justice to him, dead though he is. For the sake of my dead father no less than for that of your child patience is needed. I will have my way and no other."
"What do you mean that I can avenge your wrong?"
"You hold the secret that can do all."