She took his arm and they went out in the garden. It was summer, and the flowers were blooming in profuse sweetness. The air was heavy with the odor of the roses and honeysuckle. They sat down upon a rustic seat with the full flood of brilliant moonlight falling on Queenie's uncovered head and lovely white face.
"You have grown more beautiful than ever, Queenie," said her companion admiringly.
She did not answer, but he fancied that he heard a faint, quickly smothered sigh.
Impulsively he took into his own the small hand lying cold and listless in her lap.
"It has been a year since I saw you, Queenie," he exclaimed, "but I find the old love rising in my heart as passionately as if we had only parted yesterday. Dearest, have you ever repented of your cruelty to me?"
She looked up at him, and her eyes were full of a fathomless sadness and vague regret.
"Ah! yes," she said, and her voice was almost a wail of pain. "I have repented, Captain Ernscliffe, I have been sorry often and often for my blind mistake!"
He held out his arms, drawing he scarcely knew what hope from her agitated words.
"Queenie, come to me," he cried. "Let atonement follow repentance."