Julie made no reply. Her eyes, very sad and bitter, searched the blue dimness of the lake in silence.
Delafield sat down on the wall beside her. Not a soul was in sight. At the Cadenabbia Hotel, the table d'hôte had gathered in the visitors; a few boats passed and repassed in the distance, but on land all was still.
Suddenly he took her hand with a firm grasp.
"Are you never going to forgive me?" he said, in a low voice.
"I suppose I ought to bless you."
Her face seemed to him to express the tremulous misery of a heart deeply, perhaps irrevocably, wounded. Emotion rose in a tide, but he crushed it down.
He bent over her, speaking with deliberate tenderness.
"Julie, do you remember what you promised Lord Lackington when he was dying?"
"Oh!" cried Julie.
She sprang to her feet, speechless and suffocated. Her eyes expressed a mingled pride and terror.