At last she said, ‘Did I hear you say you had forgiven me?’
‘I asked if you could forgive me?’
‘I!’ she exclaimed, rousing herself and sitting up,—‘I have nothing to forgive! What are you thinking of?’
‘And is it thus you overlook the presumption and harshness that—’
‘Hush!’ said Theodora; ‘I was unbearable. No man of sense or spirit could be expected to endure such treatment. But, Percy, I have been very unhappy about it, and I do hope I am tamer at last, if you will try me again.’
‘Theodora!’ cried Percy, hardly knowing what he said. ‘Can you mean it? After all that is past, may I believe what I dared not feel assured of even in former days?’
‘Did you not?’ said Theodora, sorrowfully. ‘Then my pride must have been even worse than I supposed.’
‘Only let me hear the word from you. You do not know what it would be to me!’
‘And did you really think I did not care for you? I, whose affection for you has been a part of my very self! I am more grieved than ever. I would never have tormented you if I had not thought you knew my heart was right all the time.’
‘It was my fault; my anger and impatience! And you let me hope that this—this undeserved feeling has survived even my usage!’