"Oh!" cried out Alice. "How dreadful it all was! How terrible!"
"Ay," said Dick, gravely; "it was that indeed."
There was a pause between them. It was Alice who broke it.
"Dick," she said frankly—and honest shame trembled through her utterance—"I want to ask your pardon for something—no, you shall not stop me! I want to tell you that I am sorry for having said something—something that I just dimly remember saying, but something that I know was monstrous and inexcusable. It was just before—but I was accountable enough to know better. Ah! I see you remember; indeed, you could never forget—please—please—try to forgive!"
Dick felt immensely uneasy.
"Say no more, Alice. I deserved it all, and more besides. I was fearfully at fault. I should never have approached you as I did, my discovery once made. I shall never forgive myself for all that has happened. But he took me in—he took me in, up there, playing the penitent thief, the—poor fellow!"
His voice dropped, his tone changed: many things came back to him in a rush.
"Papa has told me the whole history of the relations between you," Alice said quietly, "and we think you behaved nobly."
"There was precious little nobility in it," Dick said grimly. Nor was there any mock modesty in this. He knew too well that he had done nothing to be proud of.
There was another pause. Dick broke this one.