Alton smiled gravely. "My dear, I want you as you are. How could it make a difference whether you had done right or wrong—and I shall still hold you blameless when I know everything."
Passion was once more kindling in his eyes, and Alice Deringham, who saw it, rose stiffly upright, holding on to her last strength. Her face was very weary, but there was something in her eyes which restrained the man.
"I can bear no more," she said, with a downward glance at the long black dress. "Have you forgotten? You have shown me what a man can rise to, Harry Alton, but I will not wrong you further by marrying you. Now you must say nothing, but out of pity for me go away."
The appeal was effective, for Alton bent his head. "I am going—but there is nothing impossible, and I will come back," he said, and moved slowly towards the stairway.
Alice Deringham watched him cross the garden, and then the last vestige of the resolution that had sustained her melted, and she went very wearily into the house, where, as it happened, Mrs. Forel was waiting for her. The elder lady asked no questions, for she saw her face, but drew the girl very gently down beside her.
"I am sorry, my dear," she said.
Alice Deringham let her head sink down upon her companion's shoulder and sobbed aloud.
"There can be very few men like Harry Alton," she said disjointedly.
"And because I could not abuse his goodness I sent him away."