"I feel like a cheat and a liar," he said; looking mournfully in her eyes, "to think I did not die as I promised. But I shall not offend you with my presence long. As soon as my strength permits I am going abroad, to remain an indefinite time. I feel that I shall never return to my native land; something tells me I shall find a grave among strangers. Our marriage will, of course, remain a secret with the few who know it now, and need cause you no annoyance."
Percy followed out the course of action he had set for himself, but, as is frequently the case with presentiments of evil, his impression that he was to find a grave among strangers was not verified.
He returned, after two years spent in travel, bronzed and robust, the light of his pure love for Helena shining more warmly than ever in his blue eyes.
It is so easy for a man to live down the errors that a woman (Christ pity her) can only expiate in the grave.
He reached out his arms, when he once more stood face to face with Helena.
"Can you not forgive all that miserable darkened past, and come and brighten the future for me?" he asked, in a voice that was like a caress. "I love you and I need you, Helena."
She looked up into his face, her eyes heavy with unshed tears. The love in her heart triumphed over every preconceived resolve, over every cruel, agonizing memory, as great love always must.
Yet there are triumphs sadder than any defeat: there are joys more painful than any woe. It was such a triumph, and such a joy, that filled Helena's heart as she glided into her lover's embrace.
"Oh, yes, I can forgive it all," she sighed. "Because I love you and because I am a woman. I sometimes think, Percy, that God must be a woman. He is expected to forgive so much."