Her eyes flashed strangely, and her lips parted in a smile which was no smile.
"Forget it! That is a strange speech, Bernard. Have I the power to beckon to those hills yonder, and bid them bow their everlasting heads? Can I put back the hand of time, and live my life over again? Even so futile is my power over memory. It is my penance, and I pray day and night for strength to bear it."
Her voice died away with a little break, and there was silence. Soon she spoke again.
"Tell me—something about her, Bernard."
His face changed, but it was only a passing glow, almost as though one of those long level rays of sunlight had glanced for a moment across his features.
"She is good and beautiful, and all that a woman should be," he whispered.
"Does she know?"
He shook his head.
"She trusts me."
"Then you will be happy?" she asked eagerly. "Happy even if the worst come! Time will wipe out the memory."