“We all make mistakes in the course of our lives. I forgive you everything, poor child,” he answered, generously going up to her and taking her hands in a lingering pressure, as he added, sorrowfully: “My dream is over. God bless you, and farewell!”
He turned away with an aching heart and left her weeping, with her fatally lovely face hidden in her hands—weeping for him out of the pity of her heart.
“He was so noble after all, and perhaps if I had married him I never should have realized that I was capable of a deeper emotion than the gentle affection I felt for him,” she thought; then her mind wandered to the dead, and she sobbed, miserably, yearningly:
“Oh, Rolfe, my darling, could you but return and know how I have loved you all the while!”
Meanwhile Judge Van Lew and his sister had retired to the library and were perusing the evening papers, having felt it best to leave Viola alone with her lover, feeling that a reconciliation would take place.
Suddenly Aunt Edwina started and leaned across the table, putting her shaking finger on a paragraph in her paper, while she exclaimed:
“Good heavens, Edmund, read this!”
He obeyed, and then they stared at each other with ashen faces.
“Can it be true?” she queried.
“Very likely. And I should hope so if it were for her happiness; but what a time for it to happen, just as she is making up with Desha!” half groaned the judge.