“There’s so much to forgive that I feel—and I want you to know that I feel—that the score between us, between your husband and myself, is wiped out—or, rather, that it’s against me. I did him an injury greater than his injury to me, and I was more cowardly—I tried to take you away from him!”
“When you say that, you accuse me, too!” she replied, her voice breaking a little. “I—it was worse for me than for you and——”
“No, no—not worse for you! I was the man, and I saw more plainly the consequences to you, the ruin of your high purpose, of that beautiful soul that I had worshiped in you. I tried”—he drew a long breath, his eyes dark with emotion—“I tried to drag you down to my level, to play upon your tenderness and your memories of our youth together. But when your father told me—after I’d got over some of the anguish of losing you, I—I thanked God that I’d done nothing worse, that I could come here still and beg your pardon!”
“Don’t speak to me like that!” she exclaimed. “Don’t bring it back. Let’s forget it, let’s forget there was ever a moment when we seemed so—so near to each other, because it couldn’t be! There’s nothing for me to forgive that I oughtn’t to ask you to forgive, too. And for me—it was worse than for you. Besides that, we, my husband and I, feel that we’re bound to you, that you’ve given up so much to shelter him. I suppose I ought to thank you for that, too, but I can’t—I can’t now!”
“There’s nothing to thank me for, nothing that I haven’t been glad to do for your sake.”
As she spoke, he turned back toward the door. The edge of emotion was worn so thin that a touch might break through, and he dared not stay longer. But to Diane the moment had come with a revelation; she felt her strength coming back to her with almost a feeling of relief. She had passed through a great crisis, and she had returned to her husband. It seemed to her that that bare fact suddenly armed her with a power of resistance which she had never suspected she possessed, and her voice was almost tranquil when she answered him.
“Whether it’s for my sake or for his, I do thank you! And there’s one thing more I want to ask you. You’ve seen my father—do you think he’ll ever be willing to forgive me?”
“I’m sure he will; he must. For the moment—you know how violently he feels at first; but you’re all he’s got!”
Her eyes filled with tears, and Overton saw them.
“I must go,” he said gently. “For the last time—Diane, good-by!”