The voice ceased, and the speaker covered her face with her hands.
Lawrence felt his heart growing hot with the sudden access of crowding emotions. He gave the girl one look, which took in the graceful, well-remembered figure, as if it were then and there being stamped afresh on his mind.
"Before you married and were happy with the woman you love," Prudence now went on, quickly, "I wanted you to say you forgave me."
"I forgive you," he said, promptly, and with unnecessary distinctness.
Prudence raised her head. Her face was wet, her eyes large and full of light.
"I didn't mean to make a scene," she said, still more hurriedly. "I know you don't like scenes, and I don't like them myself. But I didn't expect ever to see you alone again, and, happening to meet you, I had to tell you that I couldn't live if you didn't forgive me. You do?"
"Give me your hand upon it."
Lawrence drew a hand from his pocket, and extended it, grasping closely the hand Prudence placed in it.
"It's a strong hand and true," she said, smiling; "Carolyn will be happy. And she deserves to be."