I could not answer at first. I could only cover her hands with kisses, as I felt her warm life-current mixing with mine—a rapture!
And then I said—
“I swear to you by all I hold most sacred—by my mother’s memory and yours—by yourself—that I never meant to take Ibbetson’s life, or even strike him; the miserable blow was dealt….”
“As if you need tell me that! As if I didn’t know you of old, my poor friend, kindest and gentlest of men! Why, I am holding your hands, and see into the very depths of your heart!”
(I put down all she said as she said it. Of course I am not, and never have been, what her old affectionate regard made me seem in her eyes, any more than I am the bloodthirsty monster I passed for. Woman-like, she was the slave of her predilections.)
“And now, Mr. Ibbetson,” she we
