"I am very unfortunate," he says, humbly. "Is it hurting you very much?"
"It is better now," she whispers; but for all that she sobs on very successfully behind her handkerchief.
"You are not the only one in pain,"—speaking gently but earnestly: "every sob of yours causes me absolute torture."
This speech has no effect except to make her cry again harder than ever. It is so sweet to a woman to know a man is suffering tortures for her sake.
A little soft lock of her hair has shaken itself loose, and has wandered across her forehead. Almost unconsciously but very lovingly, he moves it back into its proper place.
"What have I done, Lilian, that you should so soon have learned to hate me?" he whispers: "we used to be good friends."
"So long ago"—in stifled tones from behind the handkerchief—"that I have almost forgotten it."
"Not so very long. A few weeks at the utmost,—before your cousin came."
"Yes,"—with a sigh,—"before my cousin came."
"That is only idle recrimination. I know I once erred deeply, but surely I have repented, and—— Tell me why you hate me."