A deep sob shook the slim form. For a moment Ruth Dale rocked to and fro in her misery, then she let the wild confession again have its way.
"For myself—" the haunted eyes fixed themselves upon Drew's rigid face—"for myself—in a strange fashion—and oh! you shall not misunderstand me, I want to give to him that which I withheld from him when he needed it most. I want to bring back the gladness of life to him—if I can," she gasped; "it has all been such a hideous nightmare. If he wants me—if he wants me, he shall have me!" The words were flung out defiantly, fiercely.
Drew started to his feet, and went quickly to her. In all his life he had never seen on a woman's face such desperation and remorse.
As his friend's wife he had loved her as a sister. Her beauty had always fascinated and charmed him. To see her now, cast adrift on this troubled sea of love and fear, was a bitter, almost a terrifying sight.
He bent over her, and raised her face firmly and gently with one trembling hand. He felt that he must calm and steady her by physical control.
"Ruth," he said gently, but distinctly, "why do you look as you do? Tell me, what is in your heart?"
The woman tried to shrink from the hold he had upon her. He saw that the vital point of her confession she would keep from him unless he commanded, and, if the future were to be saved from the grip of the miserable past, he and she must thoroughly understand each other.
"Ruth, you must tell me everything."
She panted, but no longer struggled mentally or bodily.
"Because," she said, "even now, I could accept the man who was the true sinner easier than the man who was sinned against! Not because of a greater love; but because of the slime of the punishment that the one was doomed to suffer.