"Tell me," urged Frank's gentle voice.
"Oh, how can I! You—you'll despise me!"
"Never, Cassie."
"I'll tell you, Frank! I wonder if I can ever, ever be forgiven! It is horrible! I lost my temper—I lost my head—Frank—oh, Frank! I—I swore at God!"
Those words were spoken in a manner that told the tale of the horror that possessed her when she fully realized what she had done. She wrung her thin hands, and her distress was pitiful to witness.
For a moment Frank Merriwell was dumb and speechless. She did not look at him, but she panted:
"Now you see—now you know—now you understand! You don't speak! I know you despise me now! I can feel your eyes on me! I can feel that you are shrinking from me! I am a thing accursed! Oh, do you wonder I was forced to take the fiendish drug after doing that? All the strength God has given me left me in a moment! I felt as if His curse was on me! I have felt so ever since! I am lost—lost! Now you will turn from me!"
Frank caught her hand again and held it fast with a warm pressure.
"My poor little girl!" he whispered; "I understand your feelings now. It is terrible, but you must not give up hope."
"What have I to hope for now? It's no use, Frank—no use!"