“Of course!”
Then silence ensued between them. The dog stood looking from one to another; the sun sank down beyond the edge of the far sea.
“I came to speak to you,” said Hurstmanceaux with an effort. “I left you in anger and offence, and you had answered me, I think, in too great haste.”
“Oh, no——”
“Pardon me; hear me to the end. I have thought of little else since we parted. I have not left Faldon. I have seen scarcely anyone, except my little nephew and his tutor. I have had full time for reflection. Well, what I come to say to you is this. Between you and me there ought not to come, there ought not to exist, any unworthy misunderstandings born of doubt, or temper, or suspicion. Such are unworthy of us both.”
“There was no misunderstanding.”
“I think there was. You chose to conceive that I desired what I should regret if I obtained it, and I was too much in haste and in anger to prove to you your error. One does not persuade angels to bless one’s life, unless one wrestles with them. I took you by surprise. Perhaps I spoke like a coxcomb in too great security. I should have remembered that all you had ever seen in me had been intolerable rudeness. I should have sued you more humbly——”
“Oh, how can you say such things?”
“I say the truth. I was too rough, too rash, too confident. I want you to forget that: to only remember that in all I said I was entirely sincere, and that in all you objected in answer you were entirely wrong—absolutely and utterly mistaken. I once more offer you my name, my heart, my life. No man can do more. I earnestly entreat you not to let the world’s conventionalities or your own imaginations part us.”
She was profoundly moved by the words; she could not doubt their truth or their loyalty. Incredible as it seemed to her, it was clear that this sentiment which had brought him hither twice was one both deep and lasting. But she could not and would not allow herself to be persuaded to his hurt.