"Never my debtor. Amos and I understand each other, and I was glad to help take care of him. You owe me absolutely nothing but the fulfilment of your own unsolicited pledges."
"Why do you suppose I came here?"
"Why—indeed; when you pressed on my acceptance the promise that my 'future should be spared your shadow'? I presume you came from a chivalric sense of imaginary duty, or possibly a courteous semi-recognition of what you may have conjectured I might regard as my legal claims. I have absolutely none of any kind, along any lines. Having renounced and banished me, perhaps you wished to assure yourself that the condemned is at least not needy in exile? By what right could you expect me—disowned, rejected, scorned—to desire ever to see again a man whom once I trusted, almost as I did my God? To whom I fled as sole refuge from the infamy that threatened one supreme in my life, and when like a frantic child I clung to him, believing he loved me, he shook me off, as if a worm crawled on his hand. After the whirlwind passed, after the black veil of death mercifully interposed and hid us from ruin, I came to my senses—I realized the magnitude of my error. My ideal world had crumbled, you alone survived the wreck; I honored you for your loyalty to the innocent man in his grave, and God knows I have rejoiced that you denied my prayer, that you refused to perjure yourself, but—your cruel words sank deep. While I could not blame you, my punishment has been as severe as I deserved, as keenly mortifying as you intended and desired. In my helplessness and sorrow you have humiliated me by every means at your command, made me a target for derision and for slander. Three long, sad years, without a line. Yet you found a way to write to your gardener."
"Yes, I knew Amos loved me. You did not."
"As you felt assured of that fact, I fail to understand why you have come."
"Not from the chivalric motives you have done me the honor to impute to me. I am no walking code of priggish courtesy; I am merely a man who knows exactly what he wants most, and, missing that, deceives himself with nothing less. I am here to-day solely to see, at least once more, the face that has held my heart in bondage since you were a child. To intrude upon you was not my purpose, and I did not intend to violate my self-imposed limit of absolute silence, but I could not resist the longing to look into your eyes, to hear your voice; and I thought I was strong enough to watch you a little while, without your knowledge, and go away forever, leaving you in peace. I might have known better. The sight of you shivered my own compact. I have suffered far more than you, and if my harshness wounded you beyond forgiveness, remember, oh, remember, how long I have loved you!"
"I can remember only that your last spoken words were a vehement request that I should forget you."
Her lower lip fluttered, and she caught it between her teeth.
"Yes, but if farewell utterances are inexorably binding, you must pardon me if I remind you of yours. All through the gloom and bitterness of our separation a sacred, sweet voice has sounded in my ears the precious words of promise you whispered when your arms clasped my neck, and your dear face lay on my heart: 'You will never be out of my life—my own Mr. Noel.'"
A vivid rose stole into her cheeks, and she leaned farther back to increase the space between them.