I scarcely think she caught his meaning directly when he did.
'I could never have said this, if things had been different,' were his words. 'I should never have thought of it. You must forgive me now. It is only because you have no better home. Oh, Mistress Dorothy, I know it is not good enough to ask you to; but would you—could you come to my home?'
The colour rushed into her face. I saw her put out her hand quickly, as if she wanted something to hold by. She made some exclamation, too low for me to hear.
'If I could serve you,' he went on, 'without asking such a great thing as this, believe me I would not trouble you, but I could see no other way. I could not help naming it to you. If there were some brighter life before you, and I could be sure that you were happy, I think I should be satisfied; but now you are alone, and I cannot bear to think of it.'
The tears were in her eyes. Once more she held out her hand towards him, and, grasping his, she spoke very softly. 'Dear friend, it is so good of you—so very good, but——'
'Hush,' he answered quickly, drawing back. 'Yes, I know, I understand. I always knew it must be so, forgive me.'
'Forgive you! the truest, the only friend I have.'
'It was just that. If some one, with a better right than mine, had claimed the great happiness of taking care of you, I would have said no word; but I thought—that is, Janet thought—we might venture just to say how welcome—how proud—how glad——'
'I know how faithful you are. I know you are sorry for me, but you must not——'
'I will not. I never will again. Let me be your friend, Dorothy, still. Another day I will come back,' he said, trying to smile; 'and you will tell your father's old friend your plans. Let me go now.'