“But see,” he answered hurriedly; “what I have to say to you—” he paused, as though to choose the thing he should say first.
“You can say nothing I need hear,” she answered, looking him steadily in the eyes.
“Ah, Guida,” he cried, disconcerted by her cold composure, “for God’s sake listen to me! To-night we have to face our fate. To-night you have to say—”
“Fate was faced long ago. I have nothing to say.”
“Guida, I have repented of all. I have come now only to speak honestly of the wrong I did you. I have come to—”
Scorn sharpened her words, though she spoke calmly: “You have forced yourself upon a woman’s presence—and at this hour!”
“I chose the only hour possible,” he answered quickly. “Guida, the past cannot be changed, but we have the present and the future still. I have not come to justify myself, but to find a way to atone.”
“No atonement is possible.”
“You cannot deny me the right to confess to you that—”
“To you denial should not seem hard usage,” she answered slowly, “and confession should have witnesses—”