"I have come to believe that your creed of love and helpfulness to every one is a stronger one than mine. It is not a proven thing to me yet, but I think one gets more in a subtler way than I can name from living by it. My head has got me so far in the working out of it. My heart——"
"Your heart will help you the most," said Nancy. "And it is there I am hoping for help from you." And here, perhaps to avoid the avowal which she felt might be coming, she took a tangent:
"Will your new wisdom carry you so far as to write a letter for me, one with your signature at the bottom?"
"It will," his grace answered, without a second's hesitation seating himself at the writing-table.
"It is for you to dictate it," he went on, with the paper spread before him, pen in hand.
"My dear Mr. Carmichael," Nancy began.
His grace started to his feet—this was far from anything for which he was prepared. So for a space they regarded each other steadily, and then I saw Nancy put her soft little hand over the one of the duke's which rested on the table; and his smile and movement of the shoulders, as though he surrendered everything at her touch, was one of the bravest bits of love-making I have ever seen.
He seated himself again, and Nancy, standing at his side, went on:
"I am writing to you to-night to ask your pardon for the entirely unworthy course which I have pursued toward you during the past six weeks."
Again the duke paused, and I could see his jaw set as he regarded the words, which were bitter enough to his palate.