She shook back the loosened hair from her face that he might see while he heard the truth. She had thought him pale; now all color left the lips pressed against his teeth. His hands tightened on her, but to hold her away. Before to-night she would have been silenced by this continence. But now that she knew—— Everything was different now.
“Don’t repulse me as you did the dog, John. I deserve your pity more than he. Don’t remind me that since birth my presence has brought death.”
“Death, Dolores? I never guessed what life could be until I saw you.”
“Why, then, make me feel that you regard me as a curse?”
“Dear, I am blessed to have known you.”
Her appeal for herself gentled him as those for him could not do. In his palms he cupped the oval of her cheeks; for long looked into her eyes. Stiffly, as if compelled against their inclination by his will, his lips moved.
“So fragrant and pure is the soul of you, but fragile as the rose that Jack destroyed. You must not be wasted on me.
“But he said, John, that nothing is ever really wasted, not even the tears of dew on a rose. They have only their day—roses. And hearts have only their day. Why not enjoy them the more for their little life? Tell me again and read your answer in my happiness. Is it true—true that you love me?”
His eyes closed that he might not read; then opened at once lest he fail.
“I love you with a crave that terrifies me—only less, I hope, than my honor—with a will to protect you from what you do not understand—from myself and yourself——”