Her heart was full of trouble. "I do not know what I wish," she said simply. "Give me a little time to think."
John's heart leaped with joy, but he remained silent.
Dorothy continued: "Oh, that I had remained at home. I would to God I had never seen Derby-town nor you."
John in the fulness of his wisdom did not interrupt her.
"To think that I have thus made a fool of myself about a man who has given his heart to a score of women."
"This is torture," moaned John, in real pain.
"But," continued Dorothy, "I could not remain away from this place when I had the opportunity to come to you. I felt that I must come. I felt that I should die if I did not. And you are so false. I wish I were dead. A moment ago, had I been another woman, you would have kissed her. You thought I was another woman."
John's wisdom stood by him nobly. He knew he could neither explain successfully nor beg forgiveness. He simply said: "I cannot remain and look you in the face. If I dare make any request, it is that despite all you have heard from my lips you will still believe that I love you, and that in all my life I have never loved any one so dearly. There is no other woman for me."
"You doubtless spoke the same false words to the other two score women," said Dorothy. Tears and sobs were playing sad havoc with her powers of speech.
"Farewell, Mistress Vernon," replied John. "I should be shameless if I dared ask you to believe any word I can utter. Forget, if possible, that I ever existed; forget me that you may not despise me. I am unworthy to dwell even in the smallest of your thoughts. I am altogether base and contemptible."