The strain was past, the battle over. She had vanquished him, how she
scarcely knew; but her own brief strength was tottering now. "Let me go
home!" she begged. "Tell Scott I've gone! Tell everyone there won't be a
wedding after all! Say I'm dreadfully sorry! It's my fault--all my fault!
I ought to have known!" Her tears blinded her, silenced her. She turned
towards the door.
"Won't you say good-bye to me?" Eustace said.
Her voice was low and very steady. The glow was gone. He was calm again,
absolutely calm. With the failure of that one urgent appeal, he seemed to
have withdrawn his forces, accepting defeat.
She turned back gropingly. "Good-bye--good-bye--" she
whispered, "and--thank you!"
He put his arm around her, and bending kissed her forehead. "Don't cry,
dear!" he said.
His manner was perfectly kind, supremely gentle. She hardly knew him
thus. Again her heart smote her in overwhelming self-reproach. "Oh,
Eustace, forgive me for hurting you so--forgive me--for all I've said!"
"For telling me the truth?" he said. "No, I don't forgive you for that."
She broke down utterly and sobbed aloud. "I wish--I wish I hadn't! How
could I do it? I hate myself!"
"No--no," he said. "It's all right. You've done nothing wrong. Run home,
child! Don't cry! Don't cry!"
His hand touched her hair under the soft cap, touched and lingered. But
he did not hold her to him.
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