Yes, indeed, indeed!"
"I dare not say," he said, "that it is your misfortune to love me, for in
this you show how noble a woman can be. But I will say that the cup is
bitter-sweet for you. . . . I cannot tell you now what my trouble is;
but I can say that no other living woman has a claim upon me. . . .
My reckoning is with the dead."
"That is with God," she whispered, "and He is just and merciful too. . . .
Can it not be repaired here?" She smoothed back his hair, then let her
fingers stray lightly on his cheek.
It hurt him like death to reply. "No, but there can be punishment here."
She shuddered slightly. "Punishment, punishment," she repeated
fearfully--"what punishment?"
"I do not quite know." Lines of pain grew deeper in his face. . . .
"Ruth, how much can a woman forgive?"
"A mother, everything." But she would say no more. He looked at her
long and earnestly, and said at last: "Will you believe in me no matter
what happens?"
"Always, always." Her smile was most winning.
"If things should appear dark against me?"
"Yes, if you give me your word."
"If I said to you that I did a wrong; that I broke the law of God, though
not the laws of man?"
There was a pause in which she drew back, trembling slightly, and looked
at him timidly and then steadily, but immediately put her hands bravely
in his, and said: "Yes.
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