"Not from that day to this."
"But you may, dear Miss Winfrey. You may!"
"It isn't likely," said the governess, turning up the lamp. "I came out here to—forget. He is a full-blown doctor by now, and no doubt happily married."
"Never!" cried Millicent.
"Long ago," laughed Miss Winfrey. "The worse they take it at the time the sooner they marry. That is—men; and you can't alter them."
"I don't believe it's every man," said the young girl stoutly. "I don't even believe it's—yours."
Miss Winfrey bent her head to hide her eyes. "Sometimes," she whispered, "I don't believe so either."
"And if—you met—and all was right?"
The governess got to her feet. Her face was lifted, and the tears transfigured it. It was white and shining like the angel-faces in a little child's dream. And her lips trembled with the trembling words: "I should ask him to forgive me for the wrong I did him. I would humiliate myself as I humiliated him. It would be my pride. He might not care; but he should know that I had—all along!"