We stood together by the table; we looked at each other in a momentary silence.
“How can I thank you?” she murmured, softly. “Oh, sir, I will indeed be worthy of the confidence that you have shown in me!” Her eyes moistened; her variable color came and went; her dress heaved softly over the lovely outline of her bosom. I don’t believe the man lives who could have resisted her at that moment. I lost all power of restraint; I caught her in my arms; I whispered, “I love you!” I kissed her passionately. For a moment she lay helpless and trembling on my breast; for a moment her fragrant lips softly returned the kiss. In an instant more it was over. She tore herself away with a shudder that shook her from head to foot, and threw the letter that I had given to her indignantly at my feet.
“How dare you take advantage of me! How dare you touch me!” she said. “Take your letter back, sir; I refuse to receive it; I will never speak to you again. You don’t know what you have done. You don’t know how deeply you have wounded me. Oh!” she cried, throwing herself in despair on a sofa that stood near her, “shall I ever recover my self-respect? shall I ever forgive myself for what I have done to-night?”
I implored her pardon; I assured her of my repentance and regret in words which did really come from my heart. The violence of her agitation more than distressed me—I was really alarmed by it.
She composed herself after a while. She rose to her feet with modest dignity, and silently held out her hand in token that my repentance was accepted.
“You will give me time for atonement?” I pleaded. “You will not lose all confidence in me? Let me see you again, if it is only to show that I am not quite unworthy of your pardon—at your own time; in the presence of another person, if you like.”
“I will write to you,” she said.
“To-morrow?”
“To-morrow.”
I took up the letter of recommendation from the floor.