"In that way only, David—to me."
"I thought—I thought," said the young man in confusion.
"I made you think so," she said generously. "Let all of the punishment, that can, be heaped on me ... David...." There was a deep appeal in her voice as for mercy and forgiveness.
"Then," said he, "you never did care—at all."
But even at this juncture Miss Tennant could not speak the truth.
"Never, David—never at all—at least not in that way," she said. "If I let you think so it was because I thought it would help you to be strong and to succeed.... God knows I think I was wrong to let you think so...."
But she broke off suddenly a stream of extenuation that was welling in her mind; for David did not look like a man about to be cut off in the heyday of his youth by despair.
She had the tenderest heart; and in a moment the truth blossomed therein—a truth that brought her pleasure, bewilderment, and was not unmixed with mortification.
"The man," she said gently, "has found him another girl!"