“Merciful God, forgive me, if I am wronging her! Oh, my darling! my darling!”
The strong man wept, and it seemed to him that his tears must be tears of blood!
For an hour he scarcely moved. Then he summoned his valet, who came to him with anxious eyes.
“Stimson,” Sir Harold said, “how long have you served me?”
The valet hardly understood the question, but he answered:
“Nine years, Sir Harold.”
“And you have always been faithful to me and satisfied with your position?”
“I have no wish to change it,” the valet said. “I would like to die in your service, Sir Harold.”
“I believe you, Stimson, I believe you.”
The young baronet paced the floor for a minute, then he went on: