"Forgive her, forgive her," she murmured, "as you wish to be forgiven. It is the great secret of life. No happiness without forgiveness. Alas! we are none of us perfect, but resentment is so trivial, so petty."
Captain Veevers moved back into the library. He was strangely uncomfortable. Miss Gastonguay's mind seemed wandering. "Shall we finish our business?" he said.
"Yes, yes," and like one in a dream, and yet with entire composure, she continued the work in hand, spoke a few words to the witnesses called in, and then after signing the will, and seeing it laid away in a safe place, rang the bell and requested her niece's presence.
"Chelda, my dear," she said, softly, "you have something to say to this young man."
The feverish flush on the young lady's face deepened. Her head was not held as high as formerly and her manner had become nervous and startled.
"Captain Veevers," she said, moving toward him in an automaton-like fashion, but keeping her eyes fixed on her aunt, "I wounded your feelings in an interview you sought last week. I deeply regret it."
"She wishes to curry favour with her aunt," the young man sneeringly reflected. Aloud he said, "The matter had better be left buried."
"If you knew how I have suffered!" said Chelda, with agitation. "How I have suffered!"
A quick gleam sprang to his eyes. Had she repented? If so, though he was very angry, he might possibly forgive.
She retreated from him, and drawing up her slender figure against the dark panelling of the wall, hastily ejaculated a few sentences divided between him and her mildly observing aunt.