"I can never hate you," she whispered.
"Oh, Mary, can you forgive me? Can you forget? It sounds almost impertinent to ask you again—Will you marry me, Mary?"
She withdrew her hand.
"It's very kind of you, Jamie. You're only asking me out of gratitude, because I've helped a little to look after you. But I want no gratitude; it was all pleasure. And I'm only too glad that you're getting well."
"I'm perfectly in earnest, Mary. I wouldn't ask you merely from gratitude. I know I have humiliated you dreadfully, and I have done my best to kill the love you had for me. But I really honestly love you now—with all my heart. If you still care for me a little, I beseech you not to dismiss me."
"If I still care for you!" cried Mary, hoarsely. "Oh, my God!"
"Mary, forgive me! I want you to marry me."
She looked at him distractedly, the fire burning through her heart. He took both her hands and drew her towards him.
"Mary, say yes."
She sank helplessly to her knees beside him.