Did Beppo Polda suddenly see into her terror-stricken mind? Or was it that at last he felt the horror and repugnance with which he inspired the girl whom he held closely pressed to him? Be that as it may, there swept over him, like a great tropical storm, a feeling of acute shame and self-loathing, as well as a determination that he would win her yet!
He relaxed his hold, but as he did so a wild blind rage rose up in his heart. Beppo Polda had never seen in a woman’s face the look of physical repugnance he now saw in hers.
“You are not the pure angel that I thought you to be,” he said hoarsely. “You are keeping your kisses for another man. Is not that so, Lily? If the answer is ‘yes,’ then I will drive you and myself over the precipice! I have lived my life—I should not mind dying with you!” He was lashing himself up into more and more furious anger. “What a simple-minded fool I was! You are not the first English girl I have known, Lily. But I put you on a pedestal. I did not think you were a flirt—now I know you are! And you have succeeded in making me behave as I never thought to behave to a woman.”
She sank down, back in the corner of the little car—white and trembling all over, but feeling that Beppo’s madness had passed. But with what horror, what loathing, what fear she still regarded him!
“I offer you my humble apology for what has happened,” he said in a bitter tone. And then he started the car.
They drove along, in dead silence, for some time. Suddenly he slowed down, and turned towards her.
“Lily,” he exclaimed, in a humble, deeply troubled tone, “I implore you to forgive me! I behaved as I should never have thought myself capable of behaving to any human being, least of all to her whom I adore. Will you forgive me, Lily?”
And as she remained silent, for she was still in no state to speak, he went on: “I’ll do anything to atone. Impose the heaviest sentence, but do not look at me, Lily, as you are looking at me now!”
She made a great effort over herself.
“I do forgive you, Beppo,” she said in a low voice. “But I don’t want ever to think about what happened to-day, again. Try and forget it too. I see,” she tried to smile, “that my leaving England at all was a mistake. I don’t understand foreigners and their ways. Perhaps I was to blame. Please don’t tell Aunt Cosy anything about it,” she looked at him pleadingly.