His lips trembled as he stood looking at her in silence, and the
slow, burning tears dropped heavily, one by one, down his cheeks.
The natural human remembrance of the golden days of their
companionship, of the nights and nights when that dear
head--turned away from him now in unutterable misery and
shame--had nestled itself so fondly and so happily on his breast,
fought hard to silence his conscience, to root out his dreadful
sense of guilt, to tear the words of Judgment from their ruthless
hold on his mind, to claim him in the sweet names of Pity and of
Love. If she had turned and looked at him at that moment, their
next words would have been spoken in each other's arms. But the
oppression of her despair under his silence was too heavy for
her, and she never moved.
He forced himself to look away from her; he struggled hard to
break the silence between them.
"God forgive you, Emily!" he said.
As her name passed his lips, his voice failed him, and the
torture at his heart burst its way out in sobs. He hurried to the
door to spare her the terrible reproof of the grief that had now
mastered him. When he passed her she turned toward him with a
faint cry.
He caught her as she sank forward, and saved her from dropping on
the floor. For the last time his arms closed round her.
Pages:
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405