I felt my eyes blurred. What wouldn’t I have given to have been able at that moment, in perfect honesty, to have taken her into my arms for her sake—and for mine!
“Anne,” I said, “let me tell you this,—for you will want to know this when you look back to-night: never regret what you have done. We have come closer together this afternoon than ever before, and you have done it.”
“Do you mean it, Davy?” she said, looking up, her eyes shining so that it was hard to resist them.
“I do. From now on I shall always know the strength of a woman—a very real woman—that is in you. You have left a memory that I shall hold in great reverence. Between us now there will be always absolute honesty; and that is something to build on. Hold what we have, dear friend, and let us both have some faith in the future.”
“Thank you, David,” she said, with a touch of wistfulness. Then, “And now, tell me—”
“Are you sure you want to hear? It will hurt you.”
“I only know that you are unhappy. And, David, I think that is the reason, the real reason I have come to you.”
It was hard to begin, for I, too, shrunk from the pain I knew I would give her. Presently, she said, looking up at my clouded face:
“There was some one else—”
I nodded.