"I do, I do, Ishmael, and I beg you to forgive me for my doubts of you."
"For myself, I have nothing to forgive. But, sir, I hope, I trust, that you have not disturbed Bee with these doubts."
"Well, Ishmael, you know, I felt it my duty gradually to prepare her mind for the shock that she might have received had those old coals of yours been rekindled."
"Then Heaven forgive you, Mr. Middleton! Where is she? Can I see her now?"
"Of course you can, Ishmael. In any case, you should have seen her once more. If you had been going to break with her, you would have had to see her to ask from her own lips your release."
"Where is she—where?"
"In the drawing room—waiting, like the good girl that she is, to give you your freedom, should you desire it of her."
"I say—God forgive you, Mr. Middleton!" said Ishmael, starting off.
Suddenly he stopped; he was very much agitated, and he did not wish to break in on Bee in that disturbed state. He poured out a large glass of water and drank it off; stood still a minute to recover his composure, and then went quietly to the drawing room. Very softly he opened the door.
There she was. Ah, it seemed ages since he had seen her last. And now he stood for a moment looking at her, before he advanced into the room.