“It would lift a responsibility from his shoulders,” he said. “I myself am willing to take him by the hand again, and help him to rise from his present position.”
“You will let bygones be bygones—quite?”
“With all my heart,” replied Everard.
“He suffers dreadfully still,” said Yvonne.
“I will do my best to heal the wound,” replied the Bishop. “I own I have judged him too harshly already.”
A flush of pleasure arose in Yvonne’s cheeks, and her eyes thanked him. Then she reflected, and said somewhat sadly:—
“Perhaps if you help him in that way, he won’t miss me.”
“I will guarantee his prosperity,” he answered, with dignified conviction. And then, changing his manner, after a pause, and leaning forward and looking at her hungeringly, “Yvonne,” he said, “you will come and share my life again—in a new world, where everything is beautiful—? I have been growing old there, without you. You will make me young again, and the blessing of God will be upon us. I must have you with me, Yvonne. I cannot live in peace without your smile and your happiness around me. My child—”
His voice grew thick with emotion. He stood up and stretched out his arms to her. Yvonne rose timidly and advanced toward him, drawn by his pleading. But just as his hands were about to touch her, she hung back.
“You must ask Stephen for me,” she said, in her serious, simple way.