“I wanted to ask you,” sobbed Leonore, “to marry her. Then I shall always think you were what I—I—have been loving, and not—” Leonore laid her head down on his knee, and sobbed bitterly.
Peter raised Leonore in his arms, and laid the little head on his shoulder.
“Dear one,” he said, “do you love me?”
“Yes,” sobbed Leonore.
“And do you think I love you?”
“Yes.”
“Now look into your heart. Could you tell me a lie?”
“No.”
“Nor can I you. I am not the father of that boy, and I never wronged his mother.”
“But you told—” sobbed Leonore.