"If you help me, I certainly will."
He knew what she was aiming at It was the same demand as the pastor's and Johanna's. He felt humbled. They were all of the same opinion, that there was only one road to complete expiation. Therefore he supposed they must be right.
"Repent nothing," had persistently been his watchword. But, after all, he need not relinquish it, when, sure of his strength, he entered his friend's house to bring into it the sunshine it lacked.
And while he was meditating thus, he suddenly beheld the woman lying at his feet. Her hood had slipped back on her neck, and the mass of fair hair, loosely tied with a blue ribbon, framed the lovely, melancholy white face in a thousand shining waves and little curls. He bent down, horrified, to raise her. But she resisted.
"Let me clasp your knees," she implored. "I will not stand up till I know that I am not any more alone and forsaken in my sin, that you will support me when penitence tears my heart--so that I need no longer be silent and despairing."
"I will help you, Felicitas," he said. "Only do stand up."
Her hands felt for his. "When will you come?" she asked beseechingly.
"When you like."
"Come to-day," she begged. "He pines for you."
"How long has he been back?"