“No, no! do not say that; it pains me,” she cried.
“I cannot but say it; it is the truth. You have saved me from a degradation such as you could not understand. Great God! how should I feel to-day if you had not come forward to save me?”
He walked away from her. He stood with his back turned to her, looking out of the window.
She remained where he had left her. She did not speak. Why should she speak?
He suddenly faced her once again. The expression upon his face astonished her. She had never before seen a man so completely in the power of a strong emotion. She saw him making the attempt to speak, but not succeeding for some time. Her heart was full of pity for him.
“You—you cannot understand,” he managed to say. “You cannot understand, and I cannot, I dare not, try to explain anything of the peril from which you snatched me. You know nothing of the baseness, the cruelty, of a man who allows himself to be swayed by his own passions. But you saved me—you saved me!”
“I thank God for that,” she said slowly. “But you must not come to me to ask me for my love. It is not to me you should come. It is for her who was ready to sacrifice everything for you. You must go to her when the time comes, not now—she has not recovered from her shock.”
“You know—she has told you?”
“I knew all that terrible story—that pitiful story—before I heard it from her lips.”
“And yet—yet—you could speak to me—you could be with me day after day?”