"Forget it all," answered Don John presently. "Forget it, dear, and forgive me for it all."
"I can forget it, because it was only a dream," she said, "and I have nothing to forgive. Listen to me. If it were true--even if I believed that we had not been dreaming, you and I, could I have anything to forgive you? What?"
"The mere thought that I could betray a trust, turn against my sovereign and ruin my country," he answered bravely, and a blush of honest shame rose in his boyish cheeks.
"It was for me," said Dolores.
That should explain all, her heart said. But he was not satisfied, and being a man he began to insist.
"Not even for you should I have thought of it," he said. "And there is the thought to forgive, if nothing else."
"No--you are wrong, love. Because it was for me, it does not need my forgiveness. It is different--you do not understand yet. It is I who should have never forgiven myself on earth nor expected pardon hereafter, if I had let myself be the cause of such deeds, if I had let my love stand between you and honour. Do you see?"
"I see," he answered. "You are very brave and kind and good. I did not know that a woman could be like you."
"A woman could be anything--for you--dare anything, do anything, sacrifice anything! Did I not tell you so, long ago? You only half believed me, dear--perhaps you do not quite believe me now--"
"Indeed, indeed I do, with all my soul! I believe you as I love you, as I believe in your love--"