“Hush! but I believe now that I was wrong.”
“No, Constance; you were wrong, for your own happiness, that the rejection was not renewed.”
“Percy!”
“Constance!” and in the accent of that last word there was something that encouraged Constance, and she threw herself into Godolphin’s arms, and murmured:—
“If I have offended, forgive me; let us be to each other what we once were.”
Words like these from the lips of one in whom such tender supplications, such feminine yearnings, were not common, subdued Godolphin at once. He folded her in his arms, and kissing her passionately, whispered, “Be always thus, Constance, and you will be more to me than ever.”
CHAPTER LX.
THE REFORM BILL.—A VERY SHORT
This reconciliation was not so short-lived as matters of the kind frequently are. There is a Chinese proverb which says: “How near are two hearts when there is no deceit between them!” And the misunderstanding of their mutual sentiments being removed, their affection became at once visible to each other. And Constance reproaching herself for her former pride mingled in her manner to her husband a gentle, even an humble sweetness, which, being exactly that which he had most desired in her, was what most attracted him.