"You are not to blame, dear," she said; "don't think that."
"Oh, you don't know," she said, suddenly acquiring a terrible calm that froze the young man. "At what time did he—did it happen?"
"At two."
"I knew it! Ten minutes before, he telephoned me; he said—oh, what do I know?—said a thousand things but the one in his mind. Asked me if I still was resolved to go."
"But then, Elise—"
"You don't understand! It was I who insisted on his going—I—I! I told him, if he would not go, I would come openly to his house—I would not be separated from him. Oh, my God! I didn't know—I didn't!"
She abandoned herself to her transports once more, flinging herself on her knees and praying, as an uncomprehending child prays:
"O God, don't let it be true—please don't let it be so!"
Beecher covered his eyes suddenly with his hands. Mrs. Kildair allowed her for a moment to tire herself in supplication and anguish. Then she went to her, grasping her shoulder.
"Elise."