"There may be scars which do not show—in the heart, in the mind. I am sorry, terribly sorry. Heaven knows that I meant no harm. But it seems that fate is determined that every move I make shall become a folly, the ghost of which shall pursue me. I told you to forget me, that I had entered your life only to pass out of it immediately. Forget me!" Her voice was no longer without expression.
"Forget you? I would it were as easy as the asking! I say that I love you, that I shall always love you. But," he added gently, lowering his voice, "I have asked nothing in return."
"Nothing in return?" she murmured.
"No. I offer my love only that it may serve you without reward. Do you need in your trouble a man's arm, a man's heart and mind?"
"I need nothing;" but her voice was now strangely sweet. So, she was loved by one who asked for nothing? This was not like the men she had known. "Do not misjudge me, Mr. Hillard. If indeed you believe that you love me—incredible as it seems to me—I am proud of the honor. But fatality forbids that I accept not only your love but your friendship."
"Not even my friendship?" bewildered. "And why not?"
"To answer that would only be adding to your hurt."
"You are a strange woman. You make it very hard."
"I have no alternative. The harder I make it, the better for your peace of mind. Once you are angry with me, once you are convinced that I am a hopeless puzzle, this fancy you call love will evaporate."
"Do not believe that."