The tortured mother bowed her head and wept.
Then Leon Dalrymple’s heart was melted with sympathy, and he cried:
“Do not weep so bitterly, Verna, I will find her for you if it is in the power of man to do it. And—and—I will never try to take her from you again. Let my heart bear all the pangs of loss and loneliness!”
“You have not told me yet how you brought Darling to life!” she suggested, with a grateful glance.
Then he had to go over the whole story, and she listened with the closest attention.
Their interview had now lasted more than an hour, and the ice between them was gradually thawing. The dark and the blue eyes looked very kindly at each other, and they were Leon and Verna again in their speech.
She opened the letter, and said daringly, encouraged by his kindness:
“I am very curious over some things you said in this letter to Darling. It seems you sent me some messages of remorse, forgiveness, and love when you thought you were about to perish. Will you tell me what they were?”
His face flushed with emotion, but he faltered nervously:
“They would not be welcome to you, Verna.”