She was on her knees before him, lifting her suppliant hands.
"Forgive me! Forgive me! I have seemed the most heartless and cruel of women! But I, too, have suffered. I am base and unworthy; but, oh! forgive me, if you can!"
The old love, stronger than death, shone in her eyes, plead in her passionate, sobbing voice, and went to his very heart.
"I have been so wretched, so wretched all these miserable years! Whilst my father lived I would not disobey his stern command that I was never to attempt to see or hear from you, and at his death I could not. You seemed lost to me and the world. Only by the merest accident I heard in Venice you were here, and ill—dying. I lost no time, I came hither at once, hoping against hope to find you alive. Thank God I did come! Oh, Rupert! Rupert! for the sake of the past forgive me!"
"Forgive you!" and he tried to raise her. "Aileen—darling!"
His weak arms encircled her, and the pale lips pressed passionate kisses on the tear-wet face.
So, whilst the red glory of the sunset lay on the sea, and till the silver stars spangled the sky, the reunited lovers sat in the soft haze as Adam and Eve may have in the loveliness of Eden.
"How long since you left England?" Rupert asked at length.
"Two years ago; poor papa died in the south of France. You mustn't blame him too much, Rupert."
"My dearest, we will talk of blaming no one. And Guy and May are married? I knew they would be."