The rest of the world are free to be their own judges in the matter; but God and my conscience are mine.
I went downstairs steadfastly, with my mind all clear. Even to the last minute, with my hand on the parlor-door, my heart—where all throbs of happy love seemed to have been long, long forgotten—my still heart prayed.
Max was standing by the fire—he turned round. He, and the whole sunshiny room swam before my eyes for an instant,—then I called up my strength and touched him. He was trembling all over.
“Max, sit down.” He sat down.
I knelt by him. I clasped his hands close, but still he sat as if he had been a stone. At last he muttered:—
“I wanted to see you, just once more, to know how you bore it—to be sure I had not killed you also—oh, it is horrible, horrible!”
I said it was horrible—but that we would be able to bear it.
“We?”
“Yes—we.”
“You cannot mean that?”