Every word, as she said it, sounded to me like a sinister threat, and the last sentence made my blood literally go cold in my veins.
I met her eyes. She did not withdraw hers; they looked into mine. They were the blue eyes of the cat which I had held upon my knees years ago. I had gazed into them as a boy, and watched the horror and the fear dawn in them with a malignant triumph.
“I have nothing to forgive,” I said in a broken, husky voice.
“You have much,” she answered firmly. “But do not—pray do not bear malice.”
“There is no malice in my heart—now,” I said; and the words seemed like a cowardly plea for mercy to the victim of the past.
She lifted one of her soft white hands to my breast.
“Then it shall all be as it was before? And to-night you will come back to me?”
I hesitated, looking down. But how could I refuse? What excuse could I make for denying the request? Then I repeated mechanically:
“To-night I will come back to you.”
A terrible, slight smile travelled over her face. She turned and left me.