"Beloved," she whispered quickly, breathlessly, "oh, dear man that I love so—there is something between us, a shadow of shame and horror that is with me day and night and always must be. While you lay sick it was there, torturing me with every moan and sigh you uttered. It is with me wherever I go—it is between us now—yes, now—even while I strain you in my arms like this. I have watched you grow strong and well again, I've seen the love in your eyes, and I've yearned to be to you—all you would have me, but because of this shadow I—dare not. Ah, God, how can I be wife to you when—let this answer for me." And she placed in Ravenslee's hand a coat button whereto a piece of cloth adhered. "Dear love, I saw you throw it away," she explained, "and I searched and searched until I found it."
"Why?"
"Because I knew you would soon ask me—this question, and I have kept it for my answer. Ah, God! how can I be wife to you when my brother would have killed you—murdered you!"
Ravenslee hurled the button far away, then lifting Hermione's bowed head, spoke very tenderly.
"How does all this affect our love, Hermione, except to show me you are even sweeter and nobler than I had thought. And as for the shadow, it is—only a shadow after all."
"But it is my shame!" she answered. "You might have had for wife the sister of a thief, but not—oh, God! not the sister of a would-be murderer. If—if I came to you now, I should come in shame—Ah, Geoffrey, don't—shame me!"
"God forbid!" he muttered.
Close, close she clasped him, hiding her face against him, kissing and kissing the rough cloth of his coat.
"Oh, Geoffrey," she murmured, "how we do love each other!"
"So much, Hermione, that I will never—claim you until you are ready to come to me of your own will. But, dear, I am only a man—how long must I wait?"