She looked at the shadows and then into his face.
"Have you ever forgiven me?" she asked.
He did not answer.
"I should like to feel," she went on, "that you see it was not my fault—that I was not to blame—that you forgive me for what you suffered."
But he looked ahead into the blue-gray distance and was silent.
"Tell me that I was not to blame," she said, again.
He turned to her.
"It was as much your fault," he said, slowly, "as it is the fault of that feather that the wind is blowing it into the lake. What are you that you should conquer the wind?"
She smiled sadly.
"And you have forgiven me?"