He turned toward her eagerly, but controlled himself suddenly, and answered quietly, but with deep emotion:
"It is greater happiness than—I deserve."
"And you do forgive me?"
"If there were anything to forgive, with all my heart; but it is I who have always been the offender, not you."
"I am so alone, and—and he was all—I had!" she exclaimed, repressing a sob, which was, nevertheless, very audible.
"Do you think I did not understand that?" he cried, passionately. "Do you think there was a single word or act of yours that I did not comprehend? Why—There! Forgive me. I don't quite know myself of late. I am like some foolish, hot-headed boy, the yielding tool of every emotion. I wish I could make you understand how I appreciate the sweet trust of your generous friendship."
He took a step toward her, and placing his hand upon the back of her chair, bent downward until his lips almost touched her hair—not quite.
A tremor passed throughout her body, but she did not move.
"You accept it?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
"As I would a pardon from God."