He spoke first, very gravely and kindly, in the tone of a man who feels he has a reparation to make.
‘Mistress Carmichael,’ said he, ‘I have treated you unfairly and unlike a friend. I may have thought I had a right to be angry with you; now I know for certain that is all over. I am no longer angry. I ask you to forgive me, and to shake hands before we part.’
She scarcely dared look at him, standing there tall and manly before her, with his kind eyes, and bold, frank brow. No fopling lover to be given up lightly and at a moment’s notice, forsooth? Over, was it? Perhaps she did not see it at all in that light!
‘What do you mean?’ she gasped, trying hard not to tremble, nor to laugh, nor indeed to cry.
‘I am reconciled to it all,’ was his answer, ‘because I see you love him, and that you are happy. It is but a selfish affection that cannot rejoice in the welfare of its object. To-day,’ he added, with rather a sad smile, ‘the maiden’s vow is at an end. Never mind what follies may have once crossed my brain. Prove to me that you forgive them by confiding in me as if I was your brother.’
She looked up at him with a quick, searching glance.
‘You mean you think I am going to be married?’ said she, ‘and you are wishing me joy?’
‘I am indeed,’ he replied, with another smile yet sadder than the last. ‘Somewhat awkwardly, I fear, yet none the less honestly for that. Listen! I shall never tell you so again. I loved you as dearly as it is possible for man to love woman; so dearly that even now I can rejoice that you are happy. I can give you up to one you love. I can ask you now at this moment, when everything is at an end between us except friendship, the purest and most loyal, to let me serve you all my life; though it will be years before I shall have courage to look on your face again.’
The last sentence came out in spite of him. It spoke volumes to a woman’s perceptions. Perhaps she liked that involuntary confession of weakness better than all the strength and self-denial she had so admired a while ago.
‘You do really love me,’ said she, trembling indeed still, but pale no longer, ‘so well, that for my happiness you would give up everything, even myself?’