The Major did not answer: and now, seeing him so humbled, his grand manner quite forgotten, her look softened and her voice grew a little kinder.
"But you did save Charles from the soldiers, John. And after, did save me from Mr. Dalroyd's evil passion—wherefore, though I loved thee ere this, my love for thee grew mightily—O mightily, John. But now, alas! how should a poor maid wed and give herself into the power of a man—like thee, John? A man so passionate, so prone to cruel doubt, to jealousy, to evil and vain imaginings, to cruel fits of—of dignity—O John!"
The Major raised his head and saw her leaning towards him in the great chair, her hands outstretched to him, her eyes full of a yearning tenderness.
"Betty!" He was down before her on his knees, those gentle hands pressed to his brow, his cheek, his eager lips.
"I have been blind, blind—a blind fool!"
"But you were brave and generous also, dear John, though over-prone to cruel doubt of me from the first, John, the very first."
"Yes, my lady," he confessed, humbly.
"Though mayhap I did give thee some—some little cause, John, so now do I forgive thee!"
"This night," said he sighing, "I destroyed thy dear letter."
"Did you, John?"