"My father; he went into my room while I was away, saw the pictures and took them all and destroyed them; because he thought it was right, he told me.... Can you believe it?"
"Hardly," Everest muttered: his face had grown as white as hers.
"What an atrocious thing to do! What a regular old John Calvin! Darling, darling, I am sorry! What can I do to comfort you?"
"I am comforted already, being here," she answered, drawing away from him, and smiling through her tears, as she looked up at him. "Oh, if you knew what a relief it is to be with you, and to feel that blackness of hate vanishing out of one's mind, and the feelings of love rushing back into it! For six hours now, since this happened, I did not know myself.... I have been a murderess in heart.... I was devoured with hate of him. The thought of you was the only thing that saved me, that shone like a star in the darkness. The thought of you, that stole through all the mists of murder and hate, and brought me here safely. He owes his life to you...."
Everest's face grew very grave as he drew her closer to him.
"I am so glad you came to me," he said gently. "I like to think you brought your grief to me, and also I was wishing for you so much, for myself.... We can be very happy here."
"But I don't think I can stay.... Can I?" she said doubtfully. "Really, Everest, I don't want to be any trouble to you. You may not be ready for me. You were not prepared for me to come now. I felt I must see you at once, but I have a little money with me, and I can go to an hotel, can't I, and stay there by myself?"
Everest laughed and kissed her, looking down upon her with that wonderful softening of all the brilliant face that moved her so.
"Yes, you could certainly do that if I allowed it," he answered, "which I shall not do. You can perfectly well stay here with me. These are my own private rooms, where I do exactly as I please. I have my studio here too, and I always count this my happiest place in town, where I am free and alone, and no one bothers me. How did you come? Have you got any luggage?"
"I drove here in a taxi from the station, and I have only a handbag. I felt I must get away from the Rectory and the possibility of losing my senses and killing him. But I had no idea of forcing myself on you; I want to be quiet for a day or two somewhere, and paint a picture that came into my mind in the train. That will take away this dreadful longing for revenge. Then you could help me, couldn't you, to get it sold? You said I could always sell my things. I do not want ever, ever, to go home again!"