She twisted her hands in agony. "All my life I shall be sorry."
"Sorry! Thank you. All mine I shall be sorry, too. If you had wished to torture me—if you had tried! I love her. She's more to me than all the world, than the only soul I think of in the next. I love her! do you know what it means? To say I'd die for her says nothing—my life is empty; but the one joy I have had has been my work, and I would give all the work I've done, and all the power to do any more—I'd give it gladly —just to kiss her once.... If she knew—if I could tell her what I feel for her, there might—mightn't there be hope for me yet?"
"No," she said; the tears were running down her face; "she's fond of someone else."
"Of Vivian?... Oh, she is fond of him, is she? Don't cry, I didn't mean to make you cry. It can't be helped now."
"Forgive me," she sobbed. "Don't hate me! Say that you forgive me!"
"May God make her happy with him," murmured the man, deaf and blind.
"Forgive me, forgive me," she moaned. "It was cruel, what you said was true, I've tortured you—to spare my pride, to spare my vanity, but forgive me. Say you forgive me what I've done!"
"I forgive you," he said. "After all, you were no more cowardly than I was. You might have told me so; you didn't."
It was some minutes before either of them spoke another word.
"If she had loved me!" cried David, suddenly. He fell on to the couch, and hid his face in his hands. "If she had loved me!"